No Such Place
by lone astronomer
Summary: Shortly after the epilogue of The Lion and the Unicorn, Charlie is made to face his worst fears... and the return of the Dark wizard he has fought so hard against. Chapter 5!
1. Mirror, Mirror

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No Such Place

Chapter One: Mirror, Mirror 

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, names, locations, images, etc. belong to J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros., not to mention a few other people. No profit is being made and no infringement is intended.

A sequel of sorts to _The Lion and the Unicorn_, this time focusing almost entirely on Charlie Weasley. Make no mistake, the main point of this story is to drive Hallie mad. (Just kidding.) Anyway, it had to happen sometime. The plot and characters were all there, just waiting for me. What else could I do but bow to their command?

There isn't really a lot of action here, especially not when compared with its predecessor, but Charlie has an even cooler job and this one involves a broomstick…

Summary: Sequel to _The Lion and the Unicorn_. Charlie Weasley is made to face his worst fears… as well as the continuous wrath of his best friend.

*

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cras amet qui numquam amavit

quique amavit cras amet

*

He wasn't exactly sure where he was. He wasn't quite sure that he was awake, either, for all of that, but it seemed irrelevant. Charlie was reminded somewhat of the affair at Stonehenge a little over two years ago- the desolate landscape was not unlike the moor at Avalon. The dark ground was damp under his boots and he realized that they were part of his old dragon-keeping wardrobe, caked with mud. A thick layer of very odd mist obscured most of his lower half from view; he was having trouble seeing more than a few feet in front of his face. Yet somehow he knew where he was going; he was drawn towards it inexorably, and soon it was before him on the plain. 

A mirror stood not a foot away from him, its surface glittering in the pale moonlight, tempting him with the words scrawled in an elegant script around the edges of the frame. Charlie didn't know exactly how it could be classified a mirror, as it reflected nothing, but that was what it was and he didn't question it. It was still drawing him forwards... 

Almost before he realized it, the mirror was closer than he was comfortable with. Charlie put a hand out to stop himself from falling into it, afraid that it would shatter, but his fingers passed through the surface of the glass as if it were water. He could just barely make out their outline on the other side. He wondered what was going on. 

The mirror swallowed him whole, and there was blackness. 

*

When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at a familiar ceiling. He hadn't seen it in years- it was Hogwarts, of that he was sure, but just which room it was he couldn't place. Charlie also aware that he was not alone- someone was drawing lazy circles on his chest. He closed his eyes again. He remembered well enough that only two women had ever done that to him. But this couldn't be... could it? You didn't just wake up and find yourself in the past. That sort of déja vu just didn't happen. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be.

"Charlie? Wake up, you're going to be late for breakfast." 

Oh Merlin. It was. 

Without thinking about it, he sat up, causing the oh-so-very-young Jennifer to do the same, and found with a start that he was not in any way in control of his actions as he covered her lips in a ravenous kiss. "I was actually considering skipping it entirely." Well, this was a new phenomenon. How he had gotten trapped in his romantic history was a complete mystery to Charlie. 

Since his body didn't seem to be taking orders anyway, Charlie's mind was free to wander. He knew that he was dreaming. How else could he explain the complete lack of control over himself? Why was he dreaming this, exactly, in the first place? He certainly hadn't been thinking about Jennifer of late. The last he'd heard of her had been years ago- she'd run off and joined some Muggle band, if he remembered correctly. He wished he had read the words around the mirror; perhaps they would have given some sort of a clue. 

The only reason Charlie could think of for this particular dream (besides some very bizarre curse) was sheer exhaustion. It seemed that people always dreamed crazy things when they were overworked and overstressed, and that definitely applied to Charlie. Feeling useless at Hogwarts, Charlie had left to begin Auror training when Hagrid had returned from his emissary mission to the Giants. Although it did not have the benefit of being able to work closely with magical creatures, at least Charlie could use his talent and contribute better to the war effort. It was a physically and mentally demanding job, but Charlie had fit in quite well there, even if he would rather that he hadn't had to see some of the things he'd seen. 

A few months previously, he had been transferred to F.L.A.M.E.- Flight Law-enforcement Aurors for Mysterious Emergencies. This had several immediate consequences. First off, he was no longer allowed to talk about his work to anyone not directly affected- F.L.A.M.E. was controlled by the Unspeakable division. He was also a lot more involved in his profession, required to work more hours and sent on more difficult cases. 

But there were also advantages to being a member of F.L.A.M.E. For one thing, it meant that he got to work closely with the squad's mascot species, pygmy dragons. They had a nose for Dark magic like no other trainable creatures, and the fact that they were their own transportation made them ideal for use in conjunction with flight squads. The only real downside as far as Charlie was concerned was that the green ones seemed to be particularly susceptible to infection (which could easily be avoided, if you knew enough about pygmy dragons. Unfortunately, many of Charlie's colleagues _didn't._).

By the time Charlie could be bothered to pay attention to what was going on again, he was entering the Great Hall. He'd missed a rather long walk, considering how far it was from the Head Girl's quarters to the breakfast table, along with some other stuff that he would never repeat in anyone's company unless he was extremely drunk (or possibly concussed). With a start, he noticed the decorations hanging from the ceiling. Of all the days for him to have to relive, of course it would be this one. Charlie groaned inwardly, since he seemed incapable of manipulating his surroundings or his body.

Everything was just as he remembered it. That is, when he had to remember it. Generally Charlie liked to forget this particular morning as often as possible. It was perfectly understandable, of course. He didn't particularly enjoy discovering that his girlfriend had been cheating on him with the Head Boy; reliving it was something to be avoided.

He wasn't paying much attention as he walked away from them, his body unsure if it wanted to punch something or find a dark hole to crawl into. In the end he did neither, but grabbed his broom from his dormitory and spent the rest of the dream flying above the Quidditch pitch in an effort to forget.

*

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What an absurd dream, Charlie thought, opening one eye and staring blearily at his alarm clock. It was just after eight, and as it was his day off, there had been a promise of sleeping in. That promise was gone now, along with any good the sleep might have done him. 

He got up and stretched, deciding that if he was awake he might as well get ready for the day. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Charlie grabbed his towel from the rack and headed towards the shower. 

Owing to the Law of Inconvenience, just after he had gotten the shampoo into his hair, there was a loud, urgent-sounding knock at the door. Charlie contemplated just leaving it and finishing his shower in peace. It was his day off, after all. Eventually, however, the gallant Gryffindor genes won out and he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. "I'm coming!" 

Muttering something that could feasibly have been a plea for the Unspeakables in charge to give him a break, Charlie entered his sitting room on the way to the door and was only slightly surprised to find that it was already occupied. "Kate!" He felt the blood drain from his face. "Good gods, what happened to you?" She was almost completely covered in blood and dirt. Her clothes- she was dressed as a Muggle, an auxiliary part of Charlie's brain noted- had been torn in several places, and her eyes were wide open. He decided that she was probably in shock- he'd certainly seen its effects before, but rarely on one of his best friends. 

"What?" she said, glancing down at herself. Luckily she didn't seem in the mood to notice that he was only wearing a towel. "That's not mine," she stated blandly. Then she seemed to wake up. She went from slow, almost distracted speech to Chipmunk on Glue in less than three seconds. "Charlie, you've got to get the Aurors- there's been a Death Eater attack on the Muggle underground- they're torturing people- and Remus and Hallie were down there with me!" 

Charlie swore. What a wonderful way to start the morning- three pieces of very bad news in one very short little sentence. Well, if the main purpose of his day off was already ruined… "Hold that thought." He left the sitting room and returned a moment later wearing an old pair of sweatpants- the first article of clothing he'd come across- and toweling off his hair. "Where are they?" he asked, retrieving his wand. Belatedly, he remembered his first aid training and Summoned his teakettle from the kitchen. "Drink this, it'll calm your nerves." He hoped she wouldn't notice that it wasn't exactly tea. On the other hand, it was probably a bad idea to give her tea, anyway; being rather more Australian than British at least where taste was concerned, Kate loathed the stuff.

"About three blocks south-west of here," Kate answered, hands shaking as she tried to hold the cup steady. "Don't remember the name of the line." She took a small sip grimaced. "Why are we wasting time? Just get the authorities already!" 

__

Bugger that, thought Charlie, _I _am_ the authority_! "No time," he said, grabbing his broomstick from the stand by the door. 

"At least put a shirt on," Kate pleaded. "It's January, after all."

"Every second lost is another life wasted," he recited automatically, donning his Everyday Cloak. It wasn't hard to believe that the two months of intense training still took over in times of stress, no matter how hard he tried to override it. Sometimes it got him into situations he couldn't explain his way out of. 

"Why can't you just Firetalk the Aurors?"

"It'll be too late," Charlie answered grimly, remembering the conversation he'd overheard. If Remus and Hallie were on the same subway…

"Oh really?" She was physically blocking his path to the door now.

He rolled his eyes, realizing he was going to have to tell her. "Hallie's pregnant. Now move!"

"She's _what!?_"

"I won't be gone long. Just stay here."

"Like hell I will! I'm bloody well coming with you!"

"Over my dead body!" Charlie exclaimed. "You're hurt and you are staying right here!" 

"I will not!" Kate insisted. Charlie, however, had already locked the door with one of his almost-unbreakable Locking Spells and jumped out the south-west window on his broomstick. He knew that Kate knew better than to try to Apparate herself out- Charlie was paranoid and had more anti-Apparition wards set up around his apartment than some tight-security offices at the Ministry of Magic. Behind him, he heard, "Charles Weasley! You bloody Pom! Let me out of here this minute! Charlie!" But he never even looked back.

*

Charlie had probably never flown so recklessly in his life. Several times he had to swerve to avoid buildings, other broomsticks and the occasional flock of misguided geese. He reached the scene of the crime in moments, a rather obvious steaming crack in the ground underneath an even more obvious sign of trouble- the Dark Mark hung low in the sky just above him. Charlie descended quickly into the underground. 

It was a complete disaster. Scarcely-moving bodies and bits of subway car were everywhere. Only the emergency lights inside were glowing (indeed, many of these appeared to be malfunctioning), giving the whole thing an even eerier feel to it. A huge rent was torn in the side of the car nearest Charlie; he lit his wand and stepped inside. 

He was met with only chaos, although it was chaos of a quiet, unmoving type. Bodies were strewn across the seats and on the floor; some even hung by their wrists, having been holding on to the plastic overhead handgrips when the curse hit. Charlie strongly suspected Dormus Requiem, a powerful hex that petrified masses and forced them to suffer through nightmares. Had it been possible to use against wizards, the war would have already been lost, but it was as simple to block or remove as it was to cast. Even when unanticipated, all it caused was a sort of instant sleep. He decided to leave it for a moment longer, just until he found Remus and Hallie. 

Two bright lights bobbed in the darkness that took over one car down from him and Charlie could just make out a voice and a cough. "Who's there?" it challenged. 

"Remus?" he inquired, feeling relieved. "It's Charlie. What on earth happened? Why aren't you asleep like the rest of them?" 

"It appears Severus' vaccine has some use after all," Remus replied, picking his way closer to Charlie, almost distractedly offering his hand to Hallie so she wouldn't trip. Charlie hid his grimace at the name. "A good thing, too, or Kate would never have gotten to you. I assume that she did get to you?" 

Charlie nodded. "I never would have known this had happened otherwise. It's my day off," he explained. "Well. Should we take the curse off of them? Was there much damage?" 

Remus sniffed, looking ill, and grimaced. "At least five Muggles are dead," he answered eventually. "No more than seven. About eight more were tortured. I'm also fairly sure there were some Memory Charms used." 

"Wonderful," Charlie growled, pulling his wand. "_Exsuscito Totalus_." The one downside of the counter-curse was that, although it was simple, it took an amazing amount of energy to cast over so many people. It was extremely draining, especially when you had to cast it several times in one day. "I suppose we'd better-"

A voice from behind cut him off. "Charlie? Isn't it your day off?"

He turned around, recognizing the owner of the voice right off. "Too right. Hello, Riley." He frowned slightly, looking at the small, black dragon hovering a few meters above his team member. "What's Angel doing here? Has Aidan got another throat infection?"

Riley MacKenzie flushed slightly. "Actually, yes."

Charlie's usual partner set down on the dirty pavement beside him, snuffling around for the Pepper Imps he sometimes, against his better judgement, allowed her to have. He scratched her ruff affectionately. "Riley, how many times have I told you? Just get him to swallow a spot of honey. It's really not that difficult; I can help you if you need me to." He stopped when the other man looked properly chastised. _Elves_, Charlie thought ruefully. Really, if he was going to have a dragon he might as well learn how to take care of one. "The Muggles are just waking up. It was Dormus Requiem again." He sighed. "We'll have to go in to make a statement, I suppose. Coming, you two?" 

Remus and Hallie nodded. "Right," Charlie said. "Well, I guess that leaves the cleaning up for you, Riley." He shrugged apologetically. "Bye, Angel." Angel. Honestly. That was what he got for asking Fred's opinion on what the little demon should be named. It had stuck, too. She refused to answer to anything else. 

The three of them Disapparated, Charlie wondering if he would ever actually get a day off.

*

He knew he was in serious trouble the minute he walked in the door, Hallie and Remus in tow. The encounter at the Ministry had been brief, owing to the fact that he'd threatened to quit if they disrespected that it was his day off, but Katherine had still been locked up in his apartment in Muggle London for over an hour.

A single glance confirmed his suspicion. Kate was sitting on his sofa, a coffee mug in one hand, calmly leafing through _The_ _Daily Prophet_. The _Daily Telegraph _and _The_ _Guardian_, Muggle newspapers, laid beside each other on the end table. It was probable that they had already been looked through. When she spoke, there was a dangerous chill in her voice. "Hello, Charlie."

Uh-oh. Now he'd done it. Kate could put up with a lot of things (and indeed did, being his best friend), but being treated like an owlet was not one of them. Charlie wondered how badly he'd be punished for this particular offense. "Kate, I can explain…"

"Explain what, Charlie?" she asked lightly, setting down the newspaper. The photographed wizards on the front page were scrambling for cover. "Hello, Hallie, Remus. I didn't see you there."

Hallie and Remus, Charlie noted, were almost cowering in the corner, trying their best not to be seen. _Thanks for the backup, friend_, Charlie thought dryly. Then again… she didn't _sound_ angry. A delinquent part of his brain made a smartass comment about that being because no one had ever pissed her off quite like this and lived to tell about it. "Explain, ah, running off and locking you up in here?" he offered.

"Oh, Charlie, _that's_ not a problem." She flashed him a bright grin.

"It's not?" Charlie asked weakly, not trusting his good luck. It was just too good to possibly be true. A knot of dread formed in his stomach. All the times he'd made her angry… she was finally going to snap. She was going to kill him. His life was flashing before his eyes.

"Oh, no," Kate said. "No, I have nothing better to do this morning than hang around your apartment reading your six newspapers- which I still don't understand why you need, by the way- waiting for you to come and release me! It's not like I have any important appointments or anything! It's not like I was worried sick about you, thanks a lot for letting me know you were alright, by the way." Charlie flinched. "But oh no, you thought, Katherine can't possibly come along, she's far too fragile! Oh, her father was a Death Eater, she obviously knows no compassion! She couldn't possibly understand or share the need to help the helpless!" Kate was standing now, shaking with the force of her anger. "Let me tell you, Charles Weasley, _this_ witch doesn't need to take that from _you_." Before he could react, she pushed angrily past him into the hallway.

Dumbstruck, Charlie could do nothing for several moments. Fairly sure his mouth was hanging open, he glanced at Remus for advice. Remus only shrugged, seeming to say, 'What are you asking me for? She's _your_ friend.' Deciding that Remus was generally very little help when it came to dealing with volatile Australians, Charlie took off after her at a dead run. "Kate!"

*

When he caught up with her, which wasn't too long after as Charlie's wards made it impossible for her to Disapparate, it was in the small reception area on the ground floor. Her back was to him and she was almost out the door, still moving rather quickly. "Kate! Wait, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

She turned around and Charlie's guilt level tripled. Apparently Kate was not only angry, but extremely upset. Charlie suddenly found time to be very glad that none of his neighbors- mostly old Muggle women who doted on Kate like she was their long-lost granddaughter- had chosen this particular day to take a swim in the pool off the lobby. _Gods damn it_, he thought with a sigh. He always managed to upset the people he cared most about. The previous month it had almost always been Anya, but that at least was understandable: she'd been in the last stages of pregnancy and somewhat fragile emotionally. "I promise I'll never lock you in my apartment again." _Without good reason_, he added mentally. "Huge lapse of judgement on my part." _Even if I do have good reason to be concerned for you_. There weren't six different types of wards on his lodgings for nothing- the Dark Forces would do almost anything to get at him, and lately it seemed that a lot of people he knew were in a lot more danger than they should have been. "How can I make it up to you?"

Kate wiped the last traces of tears from her eyes. In his experience, they had never gotten so far as to roll down her cheeks. "It's not me you have to make it up to," she explained. "You see, there was a reason that Hallie, Remus and I were on the subway this morning, and believe me, it wasn't to come and visit you."

"Oh?" Charlie asked curiously, extremely relieved that she wasn't going to tear into him again.

"Yes," Kate said, now sporting a mysterious smile. "Your first mistake was believing that Hallie was pregnant. You really ought to know better." His confusion must have been apparent, because she continued, "In case you'd forgotten, the main reason that this is not possible is that Remus is a werewolf. Now, I realize that, anatomically speaking, there is really nothing that would suggest that Hallie conceiving would be a problem, but unfortunately for the two of them, the cellular processes involved in pregnancy are rather closer to impossible for a werewolf and a human. Are you following all this, Charlie?"

He flushed slightly, unable to believe how blind he'd been. "I think so."

"Wonderful. Anyway, the conversation you probably misheard was likely something along the same lines. Do you know what institution you would find if you ventured just six blocks south-west of this very spot?"

Charlie was confused for a moment, but realization soon dawned on him. "Oohh…"

Kate snorted. "Yes, _oh_."

"The Muggle orphanage."

"The very same one where Sirius used to volunteer." She smiled somewhat wistfully. "You know, it's probably not too late. How many appointments do you think they actually have?"

"You can take my car if you still want to go," Charlie offered. "Hallie has her license, right?"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't catch me in the vehicle with her." Charlie smiled. Kate was slightly phobic when it came to transportation. She could handle the Floo network, Apparition, the Knight Bus and subways, but just try to get her to take a Portkey anywhere…

"I suppose you were going to coach them on their legalisms while Remus tried to sniff out a young witch or wizard?"

"Actually, it's more the Muggle-isms they were worried about," Kate corrected. "But, prior plans and such notwithstanding, if you wanted to make it up to me, there is something I've always wanted to learn how to do…"

"Yes?" Charlie prompted, hoping like heck it was something normal but knowing he was doomed.

"After all, it's January- 'tis the season and all that…"

Charlie's heart sank. She _wouldn't_- "Kate, just say it already."

She grinned insufferably at him. "Grab some Muggle clothes, Charlie. You're taking me ice-skating."

*

"Kate," Charlie begged one more time in a last-ditch effort to get out of what he'd gotten himself into. "Please don't make me do this."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Come on, Charlie, how bad can it be? Muggles do it." She wobbled precariously on her rented skates. For some reason, he was suddenly very afraid of her.

"This goes far beyond any reasonable payback," Charlie growled, attempting to stand. He very nearly fell right back down again. "I hope you're prepared to be embarrassed."

The rink was unfairly crowded, Charlie thought. It wouldn't much have surprised him if Kate had called all of her Muggle friends and told them that today there would be comedy on ice. They stumbled out onto the smooth surface, holding on to each other for support. "Kate, has it occurred to you that this is a very bad idea?"

Laughing, she took a few clumsy strides in the same general direction as the masses. "Don't be such a spoilsport."

He made a face at her. "I'm going to be sore tomorrow, aren't I?" He decided that attempting to follow Kate would be a very bad idea. Unfortunately, Muggles were pushy beasts by nature and eventually he found that he had a choice: move with the crowd and make a fool of himself, or not move and make a fool of himself.

However, as Charlie soon discovered, ice-skating was not as easy as it looked. He only got a few paces before he slipped and landed painfully on his behind.

Kate, hearing his startled exclamation, glanced back over her shoulder and, upon seeing him, burst into peals of laughter. This apparently upset her already precarious balance and she, too, was soon feeling the cold ice against her backside. She kept laughing.

A pair of legs skated by him (Charlie couldn't help but notice that they were very nice legs), did a complicated-looking sort of spin stop, and were joined by the face of their owner in Charlie's field of vision. They belonged to a young woman of about twenty-five, rosy-cheeked and somehow all the more striking for her plain features. "You look like you could use some help," she offered, reaching out a hand to help him up. "This your first time?"

Grinning ruefully, he accepted her hand and managed to pull himself upright. "Thanks. Is it that obvious?" After a few more seconds of rather awkward gloved contact she reluctantly released him. He managed to skate over to Kate without falling again, and found that (almost to his dismay) he had picked up an admirer. "Come on, you; this was your idea." He hauled her to her feet.

Kate looked at the Muggle appraisingly. "Found a friend already, have you?" she smirked. "Is she one of us?"

Charlie shook his head, understanding immediately what she meant. "Nope. Ice-skating expert. Er, this is-"

"Elise," said the Muggle, extending her hand to Kate. 

"Hello, Elise," Kate said, rather less politely than the Muggle had introduced herself. "I'm Kate. And ash-for-brains over here is Charlie." He gave her a look. Kate continued as they tried to skate around a long, slow curve in the rink, "He's the strong, silent type."

Charlie purposefully skated into her, causing her to shriek and fall backwards, grabbing onto his jacket to steady herself and taking him down with her. They both landed hard on the ice. "Ouch!" Charlie complained, purposefully choosing not to notice the excellent view he again had of Elise's legs. 

"So how long have you two been together?" the Muggle asked once they were both back on their feet.

The question hung ominously in Charlie's mind and set off warning signals in his brain. Automatically and even guiltily he released Kate's hand, suddenly painfully aware that he had been holding it.

Kate seemed as abashed as he was. "We're not actually-" she began, blushing slightly. Charlie swore to himself and looked apprehensively over his shoulder. Nobody was watching them that he could discern, but he still had that feeling…

"I knew it!" she exclaimed triumphantly, grinning. Charlie was just about ready to wince when the Muggle waved a jaunty farewell and skated off to join a group of young women drinking hot chocolate. "I told you they weren't," he overheard her say as he and Kate stumbled by. "Come on, pay up."

He risked tripping over his rented skates and turned to regard Kate with a very dry expression. "Should we resent being bet upon?" Kate asked before he had a chance.

"I'm not sure. I don't know how I feel about being dismissed like that though," he said ruefully. "I must be starting to look my years."

Kate grinned at him and looked over her shoulder. "You weren't paying much attention, were you? I really don't think you need to worry about _that_ being the reason Elise didn't find you interesting enough to proposition."

As they circled around again, Charlie saw what she meant. There was definitely something more than platonic between Elise and her lady friend. "Ah," said Charlie wisely, lifting his skate to avoid falling over a child's mislaid mitten. "Well, I have to say that I still can't fault her taste."

"Sycophant," Kate accused, gliding a few feet in front of him. "I'm not even sure you know who you're flattering."

"That makes two of us, then," Charlie admitted as she executed a slightly wobbly but reasonably tight spin on the ice. "Hey, how did you do that?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "Oh, look at that, do you think I could skate backwards?"

He didn't give her time to answer. The insistent nagging in the back of his mind grew to a throbbing crescendo. Charlie grabbed her hand and pulled her off of the ice and behind a table, tipping it over just as the first curses rang out. "Ouch!" she began to complain. "Charlie, what the bloody- oh." Kate quieted when she realized that the flashes were not a sort of Muggle daytime firework. "Where the bloody devil is my wand? Charlie!"

Apparently she'd realized that he had confiscated it. At the time it had seemed the best way to keep her behind cover, but now he realized that he really didn't want her without it. How in blazes was she supposed to defend herself without her wand? Charlie passed it back to her and pulled out his own at the same time.

A quick Locator Spell pointed them in the general direction of trouble and, on the count of three, Charlie stood and aimed his wand.

Only Kate's lightning-quick reflexes saved him from a particularly nasty Dormius Curse. Swearing, Charlie brought his wand to bear. "_Stupefy multica_!" he shouted, blasting multiple Stun hexes back to where the curses had originated. Few wizards had the power to cast spells of that magnitude, but Charlie's experience with dragons marked him as one of the few. He wasn't sure he'd ever been quite this grateful for it.

The curses stopped altogether. Kate looked at him questioningly- he winced; she would probably want an explanation- and peered over the makeshift barricade.

Charlie stood and hopped over it, sliding a bit on the ice because of the skates. Four dark-skinned young men were sprawled on the surface of the ice, unconscious. With the Muggles in the area still under some version of the Dormius, Charlie decided to do some investigating.

All four were wearing cloaks with a crest that was unfamiliar to Charlie. None of them had any ID of any sort on them save the Dark Marks burned into their left forearms. Charlie was getting the unhappy impression that he might have to go into work _again_ to interrogate these jokers when a voice came from behind him.

"South Darwin Secondary School for Wizards," Kate said quietly, startling him. He wished she would stay away from anything that had to do with Dark Activity, but sometimes it seemed that her father's past rather enjoyed catching up with her.

"You know these kids?" Charlie asked, gathering their wands. Under his breath, he muttered a spell to summon a Ministry Cleanup Crew.

Kate shook her head. "They go to the same school I went to in Australia- one specializing in the Dark Arts, but I've never seen them before." She grimaced. "I bet I could tell you what they're doing here."

He sighed. "Summer in Australia." 

The Cleanup Wizards, ever prompt, began arriving. Charlie passed one of them the four wands and continued talking to Kate. "Do you think they could be responsible for the attack this morning?"

She sighed. "No. They didn't have enough experience- didn't sound right. It was definitely a group of British wizards earlier."

He nodded grimly; he'd suspected as much. The Death Eaters were not so foolhardy as to provide the Ministry with a set of partial descriptions that might match and give them full identities. The same group never struck twice within a week. "Let's go," Charlie said, feeling the adrenaline rush drain out of him. "Want to Floo back to your place? Or are you okay for Apparition?" It took a lot of restraint on his part not to offer her- or insist she take- a room at his apartment. He knew she would never accept anyway- Kate, unlike others, had absolutely no inclination whatsoever to submit to his overprotective tendencies. On that matter she refused to humor him at all. But sometimes if he neglected to make her feel like she was being big-brothered…

"Actually, can I kip on your sofa? I'm bushed."

Charlie fought the urge to sigh in relief. Two attacks in one day and Kate uncomfortably close to being a victim in both of them. He was getting extremely suspicious. He didn't know why, but someone was after his best friend almost the same way they were after him. "Sure," he answered. "I'll even let you teach me how to use a microwave."

She smiled. "Muggle-isms? You've been living in their world for too long, Charlie."

"Tell me about it," he replied, offering her his arm. "Come on, let's go." But he was still preoccupied with his friend's safety- or lack of it.

End part one.


	2. Three-Ring Circus

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No Such Place 

Chapter Two: Three-Ring Circus

Disclaimer: Not mine! Characters, locations, pretty much everything belongs to someone who isn't me and I'm still poor. How unjust.

Author's Note: The bunnies decided that No Such Place has a plot, after all. It's hardly a happy one. In fact, it's rather bleak. Charlie-angst at every turn. Also note that war is not good for the psyche. He's not in a very good mood...

Summary: A day in the life of Charlie Weasley! Meet the F.L.A.M.E.s, discover a softer side of Kate. Also beware of the darkness that is Charlie's mind.

*

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Mirrors on the ceiling   
Pink champagne on ice   
And she said,   
"We are all just prisoners here   
Of our own device."

-Eagles, _Hotel California_

*

The next morning, Charlie was up very early, owing to the fact that he had to work. Kate was still asleep on the sofa bed when he started the coffee, which he left stewing while he had a shower. By the time he was done, however, Kate was quite awake.

"'Morning, Charlie," she said cheerfully, passing him a plate of eggs. He smiled. Whatever else you said about Kate, the fact remained that she was a fabulous cook. 

"Good morning," he replied. "I thought you cooked for no man," he teased, referring to the time he had commented on how strange it was that nobody had tried to marry her yet. While other women would have been indignant, Kate had laughed at him and told him exactly why she wasn't high-class marriage material. 

Kate faked a hurt look. "If you don't want your breakfast, Charlie, just say so." She moved to take it away. 

He kept it out of her reach. "Oh, don't worry. It's just fine where it is." 

Her reply came by way of a rather typical snort of laughter. She glanced at her watch. "Wonderful. Another twenty minutes before work." She wrinkled her nose; for a bureaucrat, Kate was a very unbureaucratic person. "Mind if I use your facilities?" 

"Go ahead," he said distractedly. Something had just occurred to him. Something ugly. "Kate, when you leave, will you take the Floo network?" he asked abruptly, scribbling something on a piece of paper and handing it to her. "The password," he explained at her confused look. It burst into heatless flames. "Just promise me you won't walk and Apparate. Not after what happened yesterday." 

Shaking her head at his paranoia, she finally conceded, "Whatever you say." 

He sighed. If she'd only meant that, it would be so much easier to keep her out of trouble. Unfortunately, while you could try to keep the girl away from mischief, it had a way of catching up to Kate. "Thanks." Then his eyes lit upon the clock, whose time now read, 'You're going to be late!' "Looks like I've got to fly." He Summoned his broomstick and Everyday Cloak. "Bye, Kate!" He left through the kitchen window again, just barely hearing Kate's farewell before it was lost to the howling wind. 

*

It was a lucky thing, Charlie thought, that his clock was five minutes fast. He made it to F.L.A.M.E. HQ with moments to spare, propped his broom up in the space reserved for him, and ran his fingers through his windblown hair. 

"Cutting it a little close today, aren't we, Red?" Charlie turned at the voice of his sister-in-law Angelina Johnson-Weasley, formerly of the Wimbourne Wasps. 

"What are you talking about? I had plenty of time!" 

Angelina laughed as her point was proved by the automatic engagement of the security wards. They remained open for only twenty minutes between shifts, so if you were late- tough luck; it was the nightshift for you to make up for it. 

"So where's Patterson?" Charlie asked as the two of them navigated the maze of corridors, heading for their conference chamber. He was referring, of course, to Agnes Patterson, their supervisor and Angelina's constant companion. 

"What, you hadn't heard?" She tutted at him. "Maybe you should pay more attention. Her pregnancy leave started Monday." 

"Pregnancy leave!" Charlie exclaimed, wondering once again what it was with happy couples that made them have children. (His tentative answer leant towards masochistic tendencies.) "Good Merlin. What a time to have a baby." He wondered if this many people were always having children or if he simply found it remarkable because of the war. 

"I'm sure Aggie was thinking much the same thing." They reached the conference chamber and slid into their respective seats. Because Charlie had seniority, he was closest to the head of the table. "Any idea what topics we're going over?" 

Charlie pressed his lips together. He did, in fact, have some idea. "Well, we've got to get a new member and another commander, presumably." In keeping with traditional Quidditch teams, F.L.A.M.E. squads were limited to seven members, plus their pygmy dragon familiars. "Riley will probably make captain. He's been working overtime a lot." Not to mention that Riley was as natural a leader as Percy was an office rat. He did not mention the suspicions he had concerning a certain Hogwarts professor; everyone thought he was biased, anyway.

Sure enough, when the Unspeakable in Charge stepped into the room, it was to announce what Charlie had predicted. Then Riley took over the directing of the meeting. 

Riley was your stereotypical Elf. Actually, most Elvish stereotypes were probably based on him. He was the entire reason behind the common conception that the species were nymphomaniacs. Riley had been propositioned by Muggle nuns. Kate had commented on this once. She'd said, "Riley's the one your mother warned you about, but you never regretted." Charlie couldn't speak from experience, but he had to wonder if Kate could. Contemplating that was not likely to get Charlie anywhere except for really hacked off, so he skipped it and started listening.

"First off," said the Elf, twitching one pointed ear almost imperceptibly, "I've got the pleasure of introducing our newest team member. He's fresh from Romania, and he knows just as much about dragons as our current expert." Riley nodded at Charlie, apparently sensing his curiosity. Charlie wondered if he'd met the new member before. "Now you've got two people you can go to if your familiar gets a throat infection." There were halfhearted chuckles around the table. Every one of them had been reprimanded by Charlie at least once for not taking proper care of their partners. 

The door opened again and in stepped a tall, severe-looking man about Charlie's age. Charlie knew he had seen him before, but the man's name and identity seemed just out of reach behind some old boxes on a shelf in his mind. "May I introduce Corporal Jonathan Chortos." 

Against his will, Charlie's fists clenched. He stared defiantly up at the other man, stubbornly resisting the urge to stand up and commit acts of physical violence. This man. He was sure that he was showing signs of the legendary Weasley temper, but didn't care. This man was the cause of his best friend's misery. Charlie felt like he needed to spit. 

Instead of offering the usual tokens of welcome, the room's attention was focused on Charlie. "Something wrong, Lieutenant Weasley?" Riley asked, his voice steely. 

__

Yes. The bastard hurt my friend. I need to make him pay. But Charlie would not let himself be so easily embarrassed. "Sir." It was all the affirmative Charlie felt he could give without ranting. 

"Is it going to be a problem?" 

"No, sir." The words tasted bitter on his lips. But again, it was the only answer he could give. _Like hell there's not._

Riley nodded; Charlie knew he would be approached again later, as an equal and a friend rather than a subordinate officer. "Good. Next order of business-" He conjured a diagram not unlike that of a Quidditch play, numbered and labeled. "Tactics. Let's face it, even though the Death Eaters are a lot stupider this time around, we need some new ones. Now I hate to start out by giving you homework, but tactics are tactics- I want all of you to draw up a similar diagram of how three or four of you could capture _five_ of them. I'll be reviewing that tomorrow. Then in the block on Thursday we'll polish them up, see what works and what doesn't."

Charlie made a few notes in the margin of his agenda, adding 'block' almost as an afterthought. It was basically a controlled simulation room, complete with actors, for use in practicing for uncontrolled situations. 

"Now," Riley continued, snapping his fingers and causing the diagram to disappear, "who can tell me what this is?" A casual flick of his wrist had a bubbling purple vial in his hand.

Angelina peered at it overtop of her reading glasses. Jonathan just seemed confused. Had Charlie been more inclined to give the man a break, he would have conceded that Riley, nervous as Charlie knew he was, whether he showed it or not, had the tendency to jump topics rather rapidly.

Nonetheless, Charlie had seen a similar vial at the last meeting of his Order of the Phoenix cell. "It's a vaccine," he said. "Against the Dormius Curse."

The small conference room buzzed with a few confused voices. "Almost," said Riley, nodding at Charlie. "It's a method of preventing symptoms. Believe it or not, it does have a practical use." Another diagram popped up behind him. This one was titled 'The Effects of the Dormius Curse on the Wizard Population.' Not very concise, Charlie thought, although that particular thought was short-lived. It was quickly pushed out of the way with concern for his friends- namely, Kate, who had been exposed to the Dormius Curse just a day previously. He was suddenly itching to get out of the council chamber.

"As you can see," Riley continued, "exposure to the Dormius Curse does have severe effects on the mental health of wizards. Approximately a week after exposure they start having nightmares. As far as we can tell they are not unusually severe." Breathing a mental sigh of relief for small mercies, Charlie made a mental note to keep a closer eye on Kate. "A week after that, victims start getting careless. They experience chronic insomnia and loss of appetite. Brain activity jumps; the victim becomes paranoid and socially reclusive." Apparently there was also bad news. Charlie was paranoid and reclusive enough for two people already.

Riley snapped his fingers again. The display disappeared. "So what does this mean for you?" He sank down into a chair and covered his eyes with his hand. "It means all of you are in more danger than I thought. At least half of you have been exposed, at one time or another, to the Dormius Curse. In this line of work, any of the symptoms could be fatal. So unless you're deathly allergic to any of the ingredients on this list-" Yet another diagram popped up, plain text instead of graphs this time- "your vaccinations are tomorrow." The Elf seemed to deflate, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Dismissed."

*

"...And I'm supposed to just sit here and watch it happen?" Charlie finished unhappily. "I'm telling you, Riley, I don't know if I can work with that guy. Not knowing what he did. If Kate finds out-" He sighed in frustration. He knew how that sentence was predestined to end. If Kate found out that her ex-flame was in England, she would be gone before he could even say goodbye. On the other hand, he couldn't just not tell her...

"I know what you're thinking," Riley interrupted. "And you can't tell her, anyway, Charlie, because it violates your job security, so you might as well quit worrying."

"But if Kate finds out what I'm keeping from her, she'll kill me," Charlie said, unable to accept Riley's simple solution. _And then she'll leave England forever, like she left Romania, and Merlin knows how I'd live without her_. Not that that was even relevant, because he'd be dead.

Riley was shaking his head at him. "You can't tell her. I hate to abuse my authority, but I forbid it."

Charlie didn't bother trying to convince him otherwise. He had sensed it coming, even deliberately pushed Riley towards it to avoid having to make a decision.

"As for Jonathan," the Elf continued. Charlie winced. "Don't sweat it," he said. "You're with Angelina and me. Let Oliver deal with him. And then if he washes out..." Riley shrugged. "We get a new team member and everybody's happy again. End of story."

Charlie was about to protest that it wasn't a very happy ending when the emergency siren sounded. Riley got to his feet and clapped his hands. "Sector twenty-one, everyone!" he called loudly, glancing up at the map. "Brooms and familiars, let's go!"

Charlie's brain was still processing wildly. Sector twenty-one. Oh, Merlin- they'd hit King's Cross.

*

The team arrived under cover of Stealth Charms, dragons included, flying standard four-point formation: Riley front and center with Angelina and Charlie on either side, Jonathan and their second-newest member, a young ex-archaeologist called Callie Callahan, just behind and between them. Ex-secretary Alison Bardot and Quidditch fanatic Oliver Wood guarded their backs, their dragons flying to their right and left rear respectively. Pygmy dragons, much as Charlie hated to abuse their immunity, made very good shields and so generally flew just to the outside of the formation and half a wingspan behind their familiar.

He realized that they were a somewhat perverse group of misfits. They were none of them innocent, with the possible exception of Oliver, and all very angry. He even let himself remember for a moment that most of them had started out as washouts from more regular professions, usually for anger management problems. By all appearances, they had come a long way, but inside-

Angelina had watched her best friend die at the hands of Lucius Malfoy. Charlie had been unable to get there in time to stop anything from happening, and could only to testify against him later in court. But of course Malfoy had gone free; Malfoys were always going free…

Callie, tried and tested in colorful curses, had been discharged from her post as a head researcher following an inquiry into sexual assault, although she had not been the defendant of said inquiry. After losing her assault case, she'd been dismissed. She'd sued for wrongful termination, but was still awaiting a court date.

It was generally assumed that Riley had disobeyed orders and that that was what had gotten him into the F.L.A.M.E. Nobody had the courage to ask him. An Elf with secrets was an Elf with a past, after all. Nobody really knew what Oliver was doing there, either. There was some speculation that he had a rival Quidditch player that had joined the Dark Forces. It didn't seem very likely, however. Aside from the strangeness of the fact that he had joined the team at all, Oliver was probably the most normal of the whole bunch. Alison Bardot had quit her job because of the ridiculous amount of stress in her ridiculously unimportant department. She'd been working under Percy and had had quite enough of bureaucracy.

Charlie already knew what Jonathan had done wrong. And as for himself-

But there was no time; they were landing. Charlie had noted when they'd taken off that once again Riley was flying without an escort. Now, descending on the scene of another horrendous crime, he filed it away for reference in case the Elf got himself in a bind, which he seemed prone to doing.

The train station below him looked like the alley in Muggle London must have looked like after being blown apart by Peter Pettigrew all those years ago, only on a much larger scale. People were everywhere; most moving, many not. Somewhere a baby was crying. Charlie had a bad moment when he remembered the arrival of Sirius and Anya's first child a few weeks previously, then relaxed slightly when he started discerning words among those infantile screams.

Between platforms seven and eight were the Death Eaters. There were three of them, by the looks of things, sinister and black-robed. They had not noticed the slight distortion in the sky to the south, and had no way of knowing that a temporary Apparition ward was about to make their lives miserable. While the ward could last only a few minutes without an official permit, it was usually enough time for a short confrontation- just short enough that, if the team was in a bad situation, they could still escape relatively unscathed. 

The Death Eaters were surrounded by enough evidence to condemn them to a Dementor's Kiss at least once, had the Dementors still been on the Light side. The carnage was disgusting, even from a distance of thirty meters. Angel grunted restlessly beside Charlie; he flew without hands for a moment to pat her reassuringly on the flank. 

And then they landed. By default, the Stealth Charms terminated the minute one set foot on the ground. Because of this, squads spent some time every week coordinating landings so that the Enemy got as little warning as possible. Charlie would have worried about Jonathan's landing, but to do so would go against his instinctive dislike of the man. The sooner he washed out and went back to Romania, the better. For better or for worse, though, the landing was as uneventful as the takeoff had been, at least until the Death Eaters noticed they were surrounded. 

The dragons guarded their backs as the Death Eaters formed a tight circle and began throwing curses in every direction. This was their advantage, Charlie realized, ducking under a blue-tinted Imperius Curse. "_Stupefy multica_!" he countered, but it was blocked. The Death Eaters could point their wands in any direction, but the F.L.A.M.E.s had to be careful not to miss and hit members of their own team. Charlie threw off another curse and cast an Impedimentia hex, wondering why the Death Eaters didn't just Disapparate. The ward had surely worn off by this time. 

"_Gyrus Flammare!_" he shouted, trying to buy himself a few more moments to figure out the mystery. There were only two reasons he could think of for prolonging the inevitable like this. _Either it's a trap- but I know there are no other Death Eaters or Dark Arts being practiced in the area-_ He glanced up at Angel to make sure that he did, in fact, know this, and was not disappointed. _Or else they're just keeping us busy, preventing us from being somewhere else. But where?_

And suddenly, Charlie knew. "It's a trick," he yelled, stepping forward in the circle. Not much had changed since the beginning of the battle; Callie was sporting a nasty bruise; on the other hand, one of the Death Eaters seemed to have been rendered completely boneless. Probably Callie's work; she had a penchant for spells like that one and an odd talent for revenge. 

"Oh really?" shouted Riley back sarcastically. "What tipped you off?" He blocked another curse, sending a second Death Eater sprawling. The third Disapparated before another spell could be cast. 

"This was a decoy," Charlie explained to the rest of the group as they caught their breath. "What do you want to bet that a quiet but more significant attack is taking place somewhere else right now?" 

Angelina, being the youngest, understood first. What color could drain out of her face, did. She looked very ill. "You don't think that-" 

Charlie interrupted, "I think we should get back to HQ, and fast." Despite slight injuries, they made the flight in record time. 

*

It was something of an embarrassment, though also a relief, to return to find that the grounds at Hogwarts were still quite secure. Charlie could not shake the feeling that there had been an attack somewhere, although the message board showed nothing. The Cleanup Crew returned from King's Cross with the two captives and nothing further to report; Charlie began to wonder if the Dark Forces' new plan was to keep him in a state of paranoia until he died. There seemed to be little evidence of even this, which made Charlie distrust the situation further. 

There were no further alerts that day, but Charlie went home tired and distraught, still lost in the complexity of his thoughts. 

*

Instead of flying home directly, he decided to stop by George's shop in Diagon Alley. The Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes chain was doing well, with two large warehouses (Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley) and the week previously they had bought out Zonko's, taking over the chain they had earned their first detentions for. Fred preferred to work in Hogsmeade because he enjoyed playing tricks on his Hogwarts patrons; George had taken responsibility for the other branch because his Katie lived in London. So far, he hadn't actually admitted that this was the reason he had taken over the Diagon Alley shop, but Charlie figured it was only a matter of time.

He was pleasantly surprised upon arriving to find both of his twin brothers there, entertaining a customer. It was difficult to discern what exactly she was doing in George's shop: she was at least eighty and, in Charlie's mind, didn't seem the type to be buying supplies for practical jokes. However, she had evidently bought something; she had a very full shopping bag adorned with three familiar interlocking Ws. "Bye now, dears," she called to Fred and George as Charlie approached the counter. 

The twins waved a cheerful goodbye. "See you next week, Ms. Mostrestnig!" George yelled after her. When she'd gone, they turned their attention to Charlie. 

"Friend of yours?" he asked with a sardonic but half-felt grin, plopping a few bags of Feel-Good Fizzbees on the countertop. They were the hottest new candy since the war, tending to give an emotional and physical boost. Charlie's first experience with them had left him semi-addicted; he ate them constantly because alcohol, the other solution, was a depressant. 

"Every Monday without fail," Fred answered with a grin. "She's enamoured with George." He eyed the packages skeptically. "Ouch, Charlie. Nursing your addiction? Bad day at work?" 

Charlie could tell that Fred was genuinely concerned, though probably more for Anglina than him. "Not as such," he replied, setting the appropriate amount of money on the counter. "Just unusual." 

George, to his credit, said nothing. The secrecy of Charlie's job had been a sore spot with his family since it had begun, and the fact that Fred knew about it only compounded their frustration with him. 

Fred seemed about to ask more, but held back for George's tolerance's sake. "Right. Look, these aren't good for you. Much as it is unbusinesslike of me to say so, I think you ought to learn to live without them." 

Perhaps partially because his day had been more trying than he'd admitted, Charlie was not in the mood to be patronized. He didn't bother to keep his tone light. "Give me the candy, Fred." 

His brother pushed the bags at him wordlessly. Charlie tossed them into his rucksack and started for the door. "Mum wants you to owl!" he heard George yell before it closed behind him. Then, quieter, "What's wrong with him?" 

He felt Fred's puzzled, calculating gaze on him, but he didn't turn back. 

*

"Charles Weasley! Open this door _right now_!"

Charlie groaned and put his head under his pillow. The last thing he was planning on doing was answering the door. Although, if he thought about it, he wasn't going to let Kate keep pounding on it like that. First of all, he wasn't sure any enchantment could keep his the door upright against an incensed Australian, and secondly, it was likely to give him a monster of a headache. Luckily, he didn't have to do anything; Kate had her own key.

"I'm coming in! You had better not be drunk!" There was a slight pause, "Or naked!"

He snorted. Typical Kate. 

His amusement was short-lived, however, because she'd just slammed the door to his apartment and she looked even angrier than she sounded. Charlie sobered. 

Kate stopped in front of him, crossed her arms, and sighed. The anger drained from her face. "What are you doing to yourself, Charlie?"

Somehow she always made him feel like a disobedient child. He fidgeted uncomfortably under her gaze and stared down at the top of his coffee table, or rather, he stared down at what was preventing him from seeing the surface of his coffee table. It was littered with newspapers, quills, ink, scratchpads, and several candy wrappers. Realizing that Kate was not to know any of what happened to be scribbled on those valuable notebooks, he cast a charm to close them all. "Nothing," he answered sullenly. "I'm just working."

She made a very exasperated sound and dropped onto the couch beside him. Ignoring the organized chaos of the spread of newspapers, she put her feet up on them, thus forcing Charlie to look at her.

Kate honestly wasn't angry, he found. She was just concerned. "Well, if you're working to alienate family members, you're doing really well." She held out a piece of parchment to him, but snatched it away before he could read it. "Your mother sent this by owl post today. Arthur says she's beside herself with not knowing what's wrong with you. You might as well spill the beans, because if you don't, more people are just going to get hurt."

It was amazing, the way she could patronize, wheedle, and guilt trip a person into doing something. Charlie supposed that that was why she was meant for an office job, after all. She could probably convince Moody, Dumbledore and Malfoy into reelecting Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic. Well, maybe that was overdoing it a bit. Maybe she only had supreme influence over him. "I can't tell you, Kate. We've been over this."

"Not this exactly," she contradicted. "We've been over your job. You can't tell me. Fine; I respect that. For now, at least. But you're cutting everybody off, Charlie. I do talk to the rest of your family, you know. Probably more than you do. _That_ has to change."

He sighed. She had a point, he had to admit. But sometimes it seemed that it was always the people close to you that got hit first- the previous day's incidents proved that. Why not distance oneself? "It's dangerous," he heard himself say. "Not only for me."

"Don't go all noble on me," Kate retorted, beginning to show signs of recurring anger. "Unlike us less fortunate humans, _you_ have a family who cares about you. Don't you care what you're doing to them? You're tearing them apart!"

"So I should just let them get hurt physically, is that it?" he shot back. If she was itching for a row, he was certainly up to the challenge. 

"Right, Charlie," she said scathingly. "Because it's only them you're concerned about. Of course. That was apparent."

__

No, Charlie thought in a moment of stinging clarity. _It's not only them_. "Leave it alone, Kate. It's obvious that you don't know what you're talking about."

"No, I don't." The admission surprised him; he blinked and searched her face for clues to her new tactics. "I don't know what I'm talking about, Charlie. Go on, then. Enlighten me."

He knew he'd lost. It happened a lot with Kate, although to be fair, he didn't generally feel very good about himself when he won. "All right," Charlie conceded finally. "I'll owl Mum, if that's what you really want."

"Not what _I_ want," she reproved him gently. "What you need. Half the point of having a mother is using her shamelessly to make yourself feel better. In your case, however, might I suggest apologizing first?"

Charlie managed a wry grin. "Okay, I get the point. Me bad, you good, I'll serve my punishment tomorrow. Happy?"

"Quite." Kate managed a very smug look, drew her feet up on the couch, and stretched her legs out so that they were across his lap. "Got any food?" 

*

They had been sitting there for close to two hours, eating vegetable soup and watching a documentary on John Fowles on Charlie's television and just making idle chat when a sleek, professional-looking gray owl lit on the windowsill.

Kate removed her legs from Charlie's lap. "Look alive, sleepyhead. You've got mail."

He got up and went to the window, saw the Order of the Phoenix seal on the scroll, and opened the window. The owl flew down and settled on the perch in the kitchen beside Woodstock as if it owned the place. It held out its leg importantly.

Charlie untied the message and brought it back to the living room. "Who's it from?" Kate asked curiously, stretching her legs over him again as he sat down.

He shook his head. "I don't know yet." _I don't think it's particularly good news, either_. Charlie reached for his wand and touched it to the seal, which began recognizing him. It flashed green and disappeared.

"Good idea, that," Kate said approvingly. To her credit, she didn't even try to look over his shoulder.

But Charlie stopped paying attention as he read the letter, feeling the bottom drop out of his stomach. His blood turned cold, then began burning furiously in his veins. He felt his eyes stinging and found that, in fact, he was crying. Under other circumstances this might have alarmed him, but now he noted it with a curious sort of detachment, because it didn't really matter. It was immaterial. It didn't _matter_, nothing he did mattered, all was forsaken; they didn't have a chance.

"Charlie?" Kate said softly, breaking into his thoughts. She sounded unsettled and sympathetic. But that didn't matter, either. "What is it?" She drew her feet up and knelt next to him on the sofa.

Through the terrible haze that flooded his mind, he managed to get his eyes to function properly. He looked up, trying to safeguard against the sensation that all emotion was leaving him. He felt at the same time a strange desire to experience pain and the desire to experience nothing again. "It's Dumbledore," he said fiercely, but the words thudded dully in the room because they didn't matter, either. He fought against the lump that wanted to form in his throat. "He's gone."

End part two.


	3. Chance

__

No Such Place  
_Chapter three: Chance_

Notes: I just want to express my thanks that everyone was so patient with this chapter. It was nearly forgotten in the midst of all the packing, unpacking, and house-hunting that constitutes moving to another country. In any case, three months is pretty pathetic. As always, eternal gratitude to Zsenya for beta-reading. Special thanks to Caitlyn, Erica and Hallie for being encouraging as well as patient and to John for the conversation about, well, I'm still not really sure what it was about, but thanks.

Other note: Jennie insists that it's spelled_ judgment_, but _I_ insist on being stubborn. Besides, it looks so much more elegant with the extra _e_.

Disclaimer: I won't even pretend to own Charlie. Sadly, he belongs to Ria- I mean, Hallie- I mean, J. K. Rowling, of course. Oh yeah. The other characters do, too, with the exception of the select few I created myself. No profit is being made and no infringement is intended. 

*

__

'And in the master's chambers,   
They gathered for the feast  
They stab it with their steely knives   
But they just can't kill the beast.'

-Hotel California_, The Eagles_

*

"It's Dumbledore," Charlie said fiercely, but the words thudded dully in the room. "He's gone." Full realization hit him like a ton of bricks; his hands, clenched in fists around the letter he'd received, began to shake. For a moment he was certain that he was going to be sick; the room spun and tilted dangerously around him. "Kate, I-"

He never finished. Kate shushed him quietly, held him close to her. Some basic part of him calmed at her touch; the intense emotions that had replaced his shock were swept aside and hollow despair took their place. "I know," she said. It was enough, somehow. He was fairly sure she knew that, but she added, "I'm sorry."

Charlie leaned his head back on her shoulder. Someone else he couldn't protect had left the world. It was so frustrating, knowing that even his best efforts were often in vain. "What am I going to do?" he asked dully. The echo of his own voice throbbed too loudly inside his head. 

"Well, knowing you, you're either going to get very drunk and pathetic or you're going to reply to your mail." Ah yes. A beautiful, emotionless, typically nonplussed Kate comment. One of the two faces of Kate: angry or unaffected. Of course there was the vaguely sympathetic side, the one she had shown a few moments ago, but believing that to be full-fledged emotion... Well, it wasn't. Or maybe it was, but Kate didn't seem fond of displaying it.

"You have been hanging around me far too long. Can't I do both?" 

"You have to work in the morning," Kate reminded him. "It's far too early in the week for that. Besides, have you any idea what that does to your liver?" She sighed. "It's not worth it, Charlie."

__

Funny, he thought dryly. _I was just thinking the same thing, only about a completely different matter_. "I'm inclined to agree with you." They sat in silence for a few minutes. "I think I had too many of those Feel-Good Fizzbees," Charlie said finally. He held up a hand for Kate to see; it was vaguely blue.

Sensing his need to change the subject, Kate clucked at him. "Yes, I'd say that about exceeds your maximum daily requirement." He felt her sigh. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

__

Because I'm a sad, masochistic little boy at the end of a very short rope and if I fall, I take everyone with me. But he didn't answer aloud.

"Oh, for heaven's sake." She raised her wand and Summoned some parchment and a self-inking quill. "Write to your professor, whoever it is; write to your mother; and go to bed. I mean it. You're going to make yourself sick." Her eyes searched him. "Maybe you already are." Charlie flinched. "I am going to go home now," Kate announced, "Because whenever it's for _your_ own good, you don't want me to stay." 

"Very good. Leave me alone in my darkest hour." It was a sad attempt to be ironic.

He wasn't sure exactly what Kate meant when she replied. "You know you love being left to mope." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" It was equally in character for her to have meant it sincerely as it was for the remark to be scathing. He didn't think that was quite it, either. She almost sounded as if she were giving him a clue. 

In fact, getting a clue was exactly what she told him to do. "I hardly think I need to spell it out for you anymore." She shook her head sadly. "Good night, Charlie."

"Bye, Kate," he said, wondering why he felt as if he had missed something extremely significant. With a toss of Floo powder, she was gone.

Charlie took out the letter from McGonagall again. Heart heavy, he reread the few formal lines that were interrupted only by the occasional spot of blurred ink.

__

Dear Mr. Weasley,

I regretfully inform you of the passing of the head of our Order this sad day. He was returned to us only a few hours ago. As yet we can make no guess as to the cause of death.

I await your suggestion for his replacement. Albus would have wanted it.

After that, there was a hastily added paragraph, almost as if she hadn't wanted to include it at first but had forced herself to.

__

Professor Severus Snape is taking over his duties as Headmaster. I know how you feel about him, Charlie, but it was up to the Board of Directors, this time. I'm sorry.

Minerva McGonagall

Charlie sighed unhappily. Under other circumstances, he would have been irked that the Board of Directors had chosen Snape above McGonagall for the position of Headmaster. Now, however, this seemed rather trivial. For the moment, the most important thing was the war. Charlie just didn't see how he could continue on as if nothing had happened, but he knew that he had to.

__

Dear Professor, he wrote, _we both know that the Head of the Order can only be one person now that Dumbledore is gone. I trust that you will make all the necessary arrangements. - C. Weasley_

He rolled up the parchment and uttered the words to create the Order of the Phoenix seal, pressing the ring he wore to the scroll. He tied it to McGonagall's owl and watched it fly out the window, free. Charlie wished for a fleeting moment that he could fly away so easily, with so few cares. Then he remembered that the finer things in his life were far more complicated than anything a bird ever had to deal with, and once again resigned himself to his fate.

Having done so, he took out a fresh sheet of parchment and again dipped his quill in the ink. Kate was right: it really was high time that he made up with his mother.

*

"Morning, Riley," Charlie said, sliding into the chair beside Oliver. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and Monday morning's administration meeting was the last thing he wanted to deal with. If it had been any more than just the three of them, it would have been completely unbearable. For some reason, the more people that were present, the less activity went on. 

"Lieutenant," Riley acknowledged, glancing significantly at his watch. Charlie wrinkled his nose; he knew he'd almost been late again. The Captain crossed his arms. 

"What's up?" he asked with some degree of trepidation, picking up on Riley's apprehension. 

Riley shook his head. "Last week's vaccine tests." He sighed. "Only good for a certain number of exposures before it wears off."

Oliver swore. Charlie didn't bother voicing his agreement. "So what does that mean?"

"It means we're going back to the drawing board," Riley said agitatedly. He passed them both a sheet of parchment with various numbers, symbols and runes on them. "This is the basic composition of the Dormius Curse. If you break it down…" Charlie grimaced. He had never been very good at Arithmancy. He filtered out various nonsense words until Riley started speaking in terms he understood. "… We found that it is based on an ancient form of Elf magic. Of course, the Elves used it for different-"

Charlie sat bolt upright. "Whoa, wait; rewind. What did the Elves use it for? And I thought all of your magic was protected! Somebody got a little careless explaining how things were done, did they?" There were serious laws concerning the adaptation of Elf magic for anything because it was so powerful and could easily be adapted for Dark purposes. 

Riley sighed. "This is all magic that originated thousands of years ago. It's fairly obscure, but it's certain to be documented in more places than we can control." He ran a hand back through his hair. "As far as I know, this way of using magic to induce sleep was used for a few purposes. Ironically, one of them was to keep a child from having nightmares. It was also used to put a person in a sort of stasis until a doctor could be fetched. Unfortunately, if the spell was altered or imperfect somehow, it got very difficult to wake someone up in this second case."

A very quiet alarm started going off in Charlie's head. There was something important about that, but there was nothing he could do at that particular moment. He bit his tongue to keep from yelling at Oliver when he interrupted the flow of valuable information.

"Okay, but none of that is helping us create a vaccine." He picked up the Captain's quill from the inkwell on the desk and made a few notes on the parchment sheet. Most of it was gibberish to Charlie- he was in over his head when it came to magical mathematics. "I guess this is what you used to create the first one?" Oliver handed the parchment back to Riley, who nodded.

Oliver took the paper back, frowning. "Something doesn't fit," he said, his eyes searching the rows of numbers. 

Charlie looked down at his own sheet. "You're right," he said finally, not knowing quite what was bothering him. He wished he'd taken Arithmancy. He pointed at the third line down. "What does this symbol mean?"

Oliver followed his gaze. "That's-" he stopped. "That's it." He shook his head. "Some idiot in the Ministry hierarchy needs to learn how to balance an equation." A few minutes later, he handed his sheet back to Riley. "No wonder the vaccine wasn't working. They developed it from the wrong formula."

Riley shook his head. "Oliver, sometimes I don't know what I'd do without you. I'll send this to the higher-ups and see what they have to say about it."

At the end of his shift, Charlie grabbed his broom and Disapparated. He hadn't seen his godchild in quite some time, and to tell the truth he was rather eager to see little Jamie again. On top of that, he was expected at Dromore House- it was (or, at least, had been) routine for him to show up after work on Mondays. 

He appeared just past the hedge, slung his broom over his shoulder, and walked through the gate and up the pathway to the house. "Phoenix fire," he said to the guard gnome, stepping into the front entrance hall.

Since the arrival of the newest addition to the Black family, the front foyer had been rather disorganized, but Charlie had never seen it in the state it was in now. There were various traveling cloaks strewn about everywhere and an open suitcase lie in the middle of the floor. He stepped gingerly around it and was nearly hit in the face by a pair of socks being tossed energetically down the stairwell. "Sirius?" The barrage of projectiles continued. "Business trip?"

"Yeah," came Sirius' voice, clearly annoyed. Charlie thought he heard some cursing, but there was a soft _thump_ followed by a feminine giggle. "Ruddy bastards can't give me a moment's peace- dragging me off to all corners of the globe when I've got a new daughter to pamper and a wife to be overprotective of-"

Charlie snickered. Sirius- _Professor_ Sirius, as he was now known- was probably scheduled to lecture at some obscure Auror training facility, possibly abroad. He watched as Anya, energetic as she'd always been (though looking somewhat less enthused than normal), bounded down the stairs and enfolded him in a hug. "Well, Charlie, it's about time you came to visit me. What's your excuse?"

He looked at her, embarrassed and slightly abashed. "I had a little lapse of judgement, but I've had some help in sorting out my priorities."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't question his statement. "Just don't let it happen again. Unless of course you have a death wish."

Charlie shook his head. "You wouldn't stand a chance. Kate would kill me long before you got a shot." He smiled. "Where's my goddaughter? I haven't seen her in ages!"

"Sleeping," Anya answered, sounding relieved. "No thanks that goon over there." She winked at Sirius. "He insists on holding her every waking minute. She's getting spoiled." Turning back to him, she said, "Sorry, Charlie. Stay awhile; I'm sure she'll wake up soon anyway."

Sirius gave her a sad look. "You say that like it's a bad thing." 

She sighed. "I swear, it will be a miracle if that child doesn't turn out to be spoiled. She takes after Sirius, you know."

Charlie laughed, trying not to show his disappointment. "Right, because she's not at all like her mother."

"Just because she's blessed with my good looks and charm doesn't mean she hasn't inherited some of her father's less loveable traits." She poked Sirius in the ribs. "She doesn't like sharing at _all_."

Sirius made a face. "She'll grow out of it; she has siblings."

"Speaking of," said Charlie, glancing around, "Where's the other anklebiter hiding?"

Anya rolled her eyes. "He's upstairs in the gameroom practicing flying on the toy broom Harry got him for Christmas. At this rate, we'll have two spoiled children and a normal hero."

Charlie shrugged. "How the two of you could ever even hope to raise children is beyond my comprehension. Do you mind if I-"

"Go," Anya waved him off, shooing him upstairs. "But if you wake Jamie, you're not leaving until you've put her back to sleep again!"

Upstairs, things were quiet. The door to the master bedroom (recently moved upstairs for reasons no one could fathom- after all, who wanted to have to carry an infant up and down stairs?) was slightly ajar, and Charlie could just hear the soft baby-sounds that little James habitually made while she was sleeping. He smiled in spite of himself, glad Kate had knocked some sense into him. Then, taking care to ensure that he would not wake the baby, he tiptoed down the hallway and into the gameroom.

Leon, arguably the most spoiled child in the British Isles, whether he acted snobbish or not, landed haphazardly from his three-foot-high cruising altitude and ran in a similarly haphazard way to meet Charlie. "Chazzie!"

Grinning widely, Charlie scooped him up in his arms and spun him around. "Hello, Leon." He squealed in delight. Charlie wondered if he could possibly be only three years old. He also wondered about the safety of the toy broom- they were supposed to have a maximum altitude of eighteen inches. It didn't seem natural that the child was flying before he was talking properly, let alone unsupervised. However, he supposed that the six hundred safety charms Sirius had probably cast on the broom and gameroom both must have been doing something to keep him safe. "Getting good at those landings, I see."

"Down!" Leon promptly demanded, looking slightly dizzy. Charlie set him on the ground, and the toddler looked up at him with his big brown eyes. He took Charlie's hand in his own small, chubby one. "Quiet," he admonished in a stage whisper, holding the index finger of his other hand to his lips. "Jamie's sleeping."

Charlie managed to refrain from chuckling aloud and allowed Leon to lead him down the stairs again. "I just walked up these stairs, you know," he commented, going slowly to ensure that Leon wouldn't slip. "You're not trying to wear out an old man, are you?"

Leon leapt down the last three steps, forcing Charlie to do the same. "Mummy!" Leon squealed, skidding around a corner at the bottom of the stairway. 

Charlie stopped short just behind him and winced. It was pretty clear that Anya and Sirius were in need of some time alone together before Sirius left on whatever business trip he was being called away on. "Come here, you," he said, scooping up the toddler under his arm. "Let your Mum and Dad have some fun."

Leon giggled and squirmed, but Charlie tightened his grip. "How about you show me what Daddy taught you on the piano, hmm?" He set the child down on the bench.

The atmosphere changed almost tangibly. Even at such a young age, it seemed as if Leon held the piano in very high regard. He slid back the keyboard cover seriously and reached for a music book. He opened it to a musical piece near the middle and frowned hard at the notes. Then, as if it were the most important thing in the world, he began to play.

Charlie was almost astounded at how well Leon did. It had to be some sort of magic- Leon's hands were not large enough to span more than about four keys at once. Still, he went through the piece as well as any child twice his age would have, given proper instruction. Charlie put it down to Sidhe genes and a remarkable teacher. 

Unfortunately, Leon was only three years old, and just because he was part Sidhe did not mean that he had a longer attention span than other children his age. Not even thirty seconds later, he got bored and closed the book again. "All done," he pronounced happily, sliding off the bench. 

Charlie had to laugh as the toddler took off, heading for the kitchen. The kid just couldn't sit still. Well, Charlie decided, he came by that honestly, too. Neither of his adoptive parents was particularly patient or low-key.

There was a high-pitched squeal from the kitchen and Charlie stood up, ready to go to the rescue, but Leon just careened through the doorway and into his legs, giggling like mad. "Uncle Remus!" 

__

Remus? wondered Charlie. He didn't have to wonder long- no sooner had the thought occurred to him than Remus Lupin stepped around the corner into the sitting room, brushing ashes from his hair. "Hello, Remus."

The older man looked at him, surprised. "Charlie. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Charlie winced inwardly. He really had to do something to improve his reputation. "To be honest, I didn't expect to be here."

He got the feeling that there was a smile tugging at the corner of his friend's mouth. "Kate's idea, was it?"

Charlie's shoulders slumped and he looked up forlornly. "Why does everyone automatically assume that everything I do has a basis in Kate?"

"Because it's true," Remus said, as if the fact were obvious. 

Charlie threw up his hands. "I give up. I would defend myself, but by the sounds of things, nobody'd believe me."

"Don't worry, Charlie," Remus said mock-comfortingly. "You'll get used to it."

"Thanks," he said dryly. "Where's Hallie?"

"Here," she said, coming around the corner. Charlie found it vaguely ironic that while the meticulously neat and even anal-retentive Remus was always rather rumpled after a trip through the Floo network, his wife always managed to stay perfectly composed. "Hello, Charlie." She didn't look up from the manila folder she was holding. 

"Decided to take work home with you?"

"Hmm? Oh," Hallie looked up, smiling slightly. "No. Adoption papers, actually."

__

Of course. Adoption papers. Charlie hadn't been expecting them to make a decision so soon. Then again, they had been married for almost a year and there were certainly a lot of children in need of parents at the moment. "Oh. Right. I guess congratulations are in order?"

Remus looked slightly guilty, and Charlie could imagine why. Even in war times, the agency was probably fairly reluctant to hand over custody of a child to a werewolf and his spouse, never mind that he had a very high-risk profession. Remus often took the prejudices of others much too harshly. As far as Charlie was concerned, those prejudices were ill founded and possibly even backwards if other werewolves were anything like Remus.

"Yes," said Hallie firmly, casting a slightly irritated glare at Remus, obviously warning him to stop feeling sorry for himself. Then she turned back to Charlie and smiled, genuinely this time. She took a photograph from the folder and showed it to him. "Her name is Marianne Cowley."

Charlie leaned forwards have a look. The picture showed a young girl, probably about three, with messy black hair and large, dark brown eyes. She was standing in front of a plain white wall with her hands clasped in front of her and her face cast down shyly. She almost looked as if she had been crying. It was no wonder that Remus and Hallie had decided so quickly- though not exactly pretty, Marianne was frighteningly cute. His heart went out to her. "She's adorable," he said. Both adoptive parents practically glowed at this praise. "When's it finalized?"

"February fifteenth," Remus answered. 

__

How appropriate, thought Charlie. He stifled a yawn. "Is Sirius throwing you a party?"

"Probably," he said ruefully. "Sirius is a party animal. He hardly needs the excuse." And then he sighed. "But we'll probably all be busy. It seems to be pretty standard of late."

Charlie agreed. He couldn't even remember the last time he had enjoyed himself, except perhaps for the few moments ice skating with Kate before the Death Eaters had decided to crash the party, and his bum had hurt after that. "So you don't already have Valentine's plans?" he asked with a slight yawn. He wondered if he were getting old.

"Sure they do," Sirius said, poking his head around the corner. Anya appeared beside him, Sirius' arm snug around her waist. 

"They're coming to the Marquis Club with us. Good thing it's a Saturday; we can have Harry home to baby-sit."

"Oh, no," Sirius corrected her. "Forget it. We are not leaving our daughter home alone with him."

Anya raised her eyebrows. "Why not? He adores them!"

"First of all, he does have a girlfriend of his own, you know." Charlie, admirably, maintained a straight face. "And I know you think he's very trustworthy, but I don't think I'd be comfortable with the two of them here together unsupervised on Valentine's day." His self-control vanished. He didn't know whether to turn red or white. "Secondly, he is the Boy Who Lived you know. I don't care how secret you think Dromore House is, someone could find him, and that wouldn't be good for anyone involved." Sirius paused, surveying his audience. "Sorry, Charlie. That wasn't intentional."

Anya finally relented. "Alright. I guess I see your point. I suppose you have a better idea?"

"Well," and at this Charlie began to feel distinctly uneasy, "I was thinking, you know, since Charlie is effectively single…"

"Whoa, wait," he interrupted. "What makes you think I haven't got plans already?"

Anya snorted, covering her mouth with one hand, and even Remus had a slight smile on his face. "Oh, come on, Charlie. You're an admitted recluse from society. You don't go on dates. Unless of course you've been holding out on us."

He crossed his arms and opened his mouth to speak, but Hallie cut in, "It's Kate."

Charlie looked down at the floor. He'd never had to say anything; they filled in the blanks by themselves. It wasn't lying- it was just letting them think what they wanted. Anya clapped her hands together delightedly. "Really? Well, Charlie, it's about time, I'd say!"

"Amen," put in Sirius.

Charlie held up a hand. "Just as friends," he said very clearly, hoping that Kate wouldn't beat him too badly. He felt a pang of guilt for allowing them (and himself) to assume things. Kate was worth more than that.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Charlie."

Exasperated, Charlie pointed out, "Just because you denied having a relationship with Hallie for almost a year doesn't mean that because I'm denying it, I have one!"

"All right," Anya said, effectively cutting off Sirius' retort and forestalling any further comment that might have resulted in an argument. "Let's just agree to take Charlie at his word, shall we?" Her expression read, very clearly, _For now_. 

Charlie sighed inwardly, wondering how long it would take to convince them that his intentions towards Kate were purely platonic. _Probably the same length of time it would take to convince me that they're more than that_, he thought dryly. Luckily, everyone took Anya's advice and he didn't have to think about it again. 

*

The rest of the week was fairly uneventful. Oliver seemed rather less unfriendly to him than usual, and at least seemed to share his extreme dislike of Jonathan Chortos. Jonathan either didn't notice or didn't care; either way he insisted on being an insufferable git. Charlie was just grateful that he didn't know that Kate was in the country yet. Friday was by far the worst day of the week in Charlie's mind, perhaps because it was the most recent.

He came across Jonathan and Riley in the hallway after two days of false alarms where Death Eater attacks were concerned. The entire team was running short on patience, and though Charlie had channeled most of his frustration into working out at the small gym, he was wearing his irritation rather close to the surface. He had just made up his mind to ignore Jonathan completely when he caught wind of what he was saying.

"…in Romania. Why should he care? Okay, so I used a subordinate employee. She didn't seem to mind. It's not like she deserved any better- do you know who her _fath_-"

Charlie, who had been beyond the point of merely contemplating acts of violence this time, suddenly saw through the red haze that had clouded his vision. Oliver Wood had Jonathan pressed against the wall. Although Oliver was a good two inches shorter than Jonathan, he was somehow managing to hold the taller man almost a foot off of the floor. His right fist was drawn back, ready to make a mess of Jonathan's features. "Say that again," he growled.

As their superior officer, Riley had to intervene. "Lieutenant Wood!" he bellowed.

Reluctantly, Oliver lowered his fist and let Jonathan back to the ground. He snapped off a mocking salute, anger and distaste still written in a grimace across his features. "Sir."

"Corporal." Riley turned the same cold expression on Jonathan.

Red-faced with humiliation, Jonathan gave a salute that barely met standards. "Captain."

"I suggest you leave whatever differences you and the Lieutenant have at home, Corporal. I think it's enough to say that next time, I may not intervene. I could just let him beat you to a bloody pulp and have the both of you court-martialed. Is that understood?"

Charlie slipped down a side hallway, then, when he was out of earshot, drove his fist against the wall. It made a very satisfying crunching noise as a piece of drywall fell away. He ignored the dull throbbing in his fingers and focused instead on how he was going to get Jonathan kicked off the team. He supposed he could set him up for a few more comments like that within Oliver's earshot, but then, while Oliver seemed to have an extreme dislike of him, as well, the feeling wasn't exactly mutual. Besides, Oliver was a definite asset and the F.L.A.M.E. really couldn't afford to lose him.

Charlie had just stared pondering various decapitation methods when Oliver turned down the corridor. "What an asshole," he was fairly sure he heard the younger man mutter under his breath.

Deciding it was about time he tried to make peace with the other Lieutenant, Charlie said, "Who- Chortos? He's a bastard, all right."

Oliver turned slowly, giving Charlie a calculating look. "He certainly is," he agreed, "but that isn't who I was talking about."

"Oh. Riley?"

Oliver shook his head. "No." And continued walking.

Well, it had been a less than polite conversation, but it was certainly an improvement on the cold, shrewd indifference- even occasional malevolence- Oliver had always shown him before. And at least he wasn't the only one who wanted to rip out Jonathan's jugular vein and shove it up his…

Still, Charlie couldn't help but feel that he was missing something very important about the whole encounter.

*

He knocked on the door, a little apprehensive. He vividly recalled his last visit to Bill's house- although he hadn't exactly been unexpected, he was fairly certain he'd interrupted something. Both Bill and Anne had looked slightly flustered and dishelved when they had answered the door.

This time, however, his brother let him in with a content and completely innocent face. "Hello, Charlie," he said warmly. "Come on in."

Then again, Charlie thought to himself… Bill certainly had a strange expression on his face. It wasn't completely innocent, after all. He was almost manic. Something was definitely up. "Hi," he replied, keeping his suspicions to himself. 

Inside, all was warm and bright, despite the abysmally bad weather without. Charlie ran a hand through his hair to shake out most of the water. "Hello, Annie," he said fondly, nodding at his sister-in-law (who seemed to be half-dozing) on the sofa. Her legs were curled up under her and her head was leaning on the back of the sofa. She had a crocheted blanket pulled up over her lap. 

Charlie must have looked a little concerned, because Bill explained, "She's just been a little under the weather lately."

Anne gave him a tired mock-glare. "Under the weather, nothing," she said with a yawn. "Your brother's just a mother hen."

"With good reason," defended Bill. 

"Right. Don't worry, Anne, he comes by it honestly. At least he's not Mum," Charlie comforted.

"He's worse," she grumbled affectionately. Her husband kissed her forehead and took a seat on the sofa beside her. "Make yourself at home, Charlie."

He tried, electing a chair near the fire. He wondered if he would ever again be as close to anyone as Bill and Anne were. They seemed so perfectly at ease, and while at first glance it wouldn't occur to anyone that they could fit so completely together, it was obvious upon further inspection that they did. When he felt the loneliness stirring inside him, he quashed it firmly, reminding himself that this was war and he didn't have time to get involved romantically with anyone.

So it was only natural for him to get a little annoyed when Bill asked lightly, "How's Kate?"

Maybe 'annoyed' wasn't _quite_ the word. Maybe 'exasperated' fit better. "She's well," Charlie answered resignedly, and added moodily without really meaning to, "Thanks for asking." 

Bill and Anne exchanged a secretive glance. "Is there something you're not telling us, Charlie?" his brother finally asked.

"No," enunciated Charlie meticulously.

"Ah." Bill watched him carefully for a minute. "Why do I get the impression that that's the problem?" He seemed to be talking to Anne rather than Charlie.

Before Charlie could cut in, she raised a hand to forestall comment and gathered her blanket around her. "I suggest you ask Charlie, darling," she told Bill mildly, kissing his brow and ruffling his hair softly before disappearing up the stairwell.

Bill turned his gaze on his brother, who found himself feeling defensive once again. "Well?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "There is no problem with Kate. We get along very well, even when she's trying to fix problems that aren't hers. She's my best friend, and I love her. I am simply a little annoyed that everyone seems to expect us to be something more than platonic all of a sudden."

"Ah," came the wise reply. Bill considered for a minute. "But are you annoyed because people presume things, or because you don't like having the relationship you want but don't have thrown in your face?"

All Charlie could do for a moment was stare. If it hadn't been so ridiculously groundless, the question would have been one requiring a good deal more analysis than he was prepared to give on such short notice. _Maybe it _does_ warrant a bit more consideration, but even so, now is not the time. We're at war_. Aloud he said only, "What?"

"You understood the question," Bill said shortly. "Are you man enough to answer it?"

"I…" Charlie stalled. Was he? Could he? He was sure he preferred not having to answer it. It seemed unfair to Kate that he was being asked this question without her input. Then again, he was sure he wouldn't answer it in her presence. Did that mean that he did want something more than just friendship? Did she? If she did, could he possibly push her away and still keep their friendship alive?

"Well?"

"Don't know," he admitted. 

At this point, Bill just grinned at him. "Exactly. It may seem harsh, Charlie, but if you're ever going to have a successful relationship with a woman, you've got to be able to say that."

Charlie scowled. "Any other advice?"

"Yeah," his older brother smirked. "Answer the damn question. If not for me, than for yourself and for Kate. Because she is the best thing that has ever happened to you and if you let yourself push her out of your life, you are going to regret it. And if you regret it, _I'm_ going to regret letting you do it, and then I'll have to take out my aggression on something."

"I would kick your arse," Charlie pointed out.

"Don't change the subject," retorted Bill. "That's my job."

"I-" Charlie paused, hearing a noise from upstairs. "Is that Anne?"

Bill winced. "Anne? Honey, are you okay?"

"Fine," came a weak-sounding reply. "I'm just fine."

But the elder Weasley stood anyway. "I thought she said she wasn't sick?" Charlie said, confused.

"She's not," Bill didn't really explain before taking off up the stairs.

__

Not sick? Charlie doubted it. Nobody could sound like that and be in good health. Unless she was-

Charlie groaned inwardly, wondering if he had just been blind before or if this recent phenomenon was just a strange, unexpected byproduct of the war. He supposed it was possible- after all, who wouldn't want a successor if they thought they were doomed to die? The phenomenon that was Harry Potter's birthright was not lost on anyone. When Bill came back down the stairs, he said, "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Bill shifted uncomfortably. "Tell you what?"

He folded his arms. 

"Oh, that." He sighed. "To be perfectly honest, we didn't think it would be a good thing to advertise, what with the war and everything- and especially how Voldemort was defeated last time. And since Anne refuses to simply run and hide until we're absolutely bloody sure that we're targets. Although personally, I wouldn't mind retreating from public view for a while." As one of the top officials in the Ministry's finance department, Bill had a major say in how much of the Ministry's funds were devoted to the fight against the Dark Side. 

"I guess," said Charlie doubtfully. It wasn't as if they thought he would leak information or anything- only that he was more susceptible to capture and torture than the rest of the Weasleys. Though they didn't know his exact profession, they _did_ know that it was particularly dangerous. "You've told Mum, of course."

Bill laughed. "We didn't have to- she guessed weeks ago. Remus knows, too- it's beyond difficult to keep anything from him."

"True enough," he conceded, thinking back to the events of a few days previously. "Hallie probably knows, as well, if Remus does. They don't have secrets."

"They had their share, in the beginning," pointed out Bill, distracted. He seemed, unwillingly, to keep glancing up the stairs every few moments.

Charlie nodded, understanding his brother's preoccupation. "I should get going," he excused, wanting to give his brother and his wife their space. 

Bill looked grateful. "Sure. Come visit again soon."

"I will," he promised, reaching for his coat. Then he paused for a second. "Just one more question."

"Shoot."

"What are you going to call her?"

A smile broke out on his brother's face. "Genevieve."

It had a nice ring to it, Charlie thought. He was still uncertain how he knew that the child would be a little girl… it just seemed so _right_. "I like it," he said aloud, reaching for his wand. "See you later."

"Bye, Charlie," Bill said, looking somewhat frazzled as Charlie stepped out the door. Just as Charlie was about to Disapparate, he yelled, 'Think about what I asked you!"

Charlie made a solemn promise to himself to do exactly that- when there was time to warrant it.

He reappeared in a familiar clearing just across the lake and down the hill from Hogwarts. It was quiet and the babbling brook was oddly relaxing, if slightly icy because of the winter; Charlie had once jokingly dubbed the tree whose branches stretched out across it his 'thinking spot.' It was probably a little morbid that it was also the spot he had witnessed Lucius Malfoy cast curse after curse on a young witch named Alicia Spinnet months previously. It was also ironic that, while he had originally intended to consider his relationship with Kate in more depth and detail, he found his mind wandering back to the events that drew him to return to this particular spot.

Up until that day, the day he'd seen Alicia Spinnet tortured, Charlie had not really known the extent of human cruelty. The carnage had made him physically ill, and he had retched behind a tree before being able to pursue the older man. By then it had been too late for Alicia, and so he had taken out all of his aggression on Malfoy. A temporary charm had prevented him from Disapparating, and Charlie had taken the time to exact retribution. Somehow, Malfoy had gotten his wand back, and left the scene immediately. It only occurred to Charlie afterwards how close he had come to dying that day- that as easily as he had fled, Malfoy could have used his remaining strength to perform the Killing Curse.

As for Alicia…

She had been lying, unconscious and bloody, in the stream that even now trickled by under Charlie's feet, when he got to her. He had been certain that she was dead.

This later proved not to be the case. The mediwizards at St. Mungo's couldn't find a single thing wrong with her other than the curse-wounds inflicted upon her. She still had vital signs, brain activity, and a fairly regular respiration rate. She simply could not respond to outside stimuli. 

They had called it the Dormius Curse and classified it top secret, forbidden him to say anything, and locked her up in a maximum-security ward. 

Now, Charlie was beginning to wonder if the very first brand of misused Elven magic wasn't going to resurface anytime soon.

The last traces of orange sunlight disappeared from the sky and Charlie realized with a start that it was not a very intelligent thing to be out near the Forbidden Forest alone at night in _any_ circumstances, let alone in the middle of a war. It wouldn't ordinarily have bothered him, but tonight something was preying on his mind. _I'll walk it off,_ he told himself. Distractions were not to be tolerated, and he knew that only distraction could result from not following his instinct.

It appeared to be a perfectly normal Friday night in Hogsmeade. The Three Broomsticks was a bustle of activity as always, even if business was suffering a bit lately. Zonko's, Dervish and Banges, and the other shops all appeared closed and secure. The back of Charlie's neck prickled, and he continued making his way to Kate's cottage, reaching for his wand.

A light was on inside, he saw from a distance, which could only be a good sign. A slim silhouette danced across it, and Charlie recognized Kate's profile. She had probably just finished dinner, he decided, wondering if that was his stomach grumbling in response to the food or twisting nervously because of Kate. Inwardly, he cursed Bill for bringing unwanted questions to light.

Then another silhouette crossed the light, in front of the window this time. Charlie froze. That, he had _not_ expected.

Quietly, but as quickly as stealth would allow, he crept up to the house. Someone whispered, "Aloho-"

Charlie cut him off with a snap-kick to the chest, but the prowler, whoever it was, caught it. Instead of allowing himself to be thrown off, Charlie leaned forwards and let his weight bring the man down. 

Kate, probably hearing the commotion from inside the house, appeared at the doorway, a towel wrapped around her chest. Charlie barely noted this peripherally, instead bringing his fist to bear on the prowler's face. He had been trained to use physical force in place of magic in cases like this where a rebounding curse might injure himself or another, and when one of those others was Kate, the risk wasn't worth it.

A muffled curse- verbal rather than magical- could just be heard over the sound of all of the fingers in his hand cracking. He thought one of them might have broken, but didn't much care. 

Then there was a wave of magic and the man disappeared from under him. Charlie swore.

"Charlie? Is that you out there?"

He shook off his stinging knuckle and stood up. "Guilty as charged." He glanced over at Kate. "Are you okay?"

"Ah, fine," she answered too quickly, stepping back inside. Charlie followed her and closed the door behind him. "I just… um…" Her eyes widened slightly as she realized her state of undress. "I'll be right back."

"Pack," said Charlie seriously before she could leave. 

"What? Charlie-"

"No, listen." He stepped forward. "They're after you, Kate. For whatever reason, they want _you_." _Whatever reason_, he snorted to himself. _They're using her to get to me. If it's more than that… _He didn't want to think about the possibility that she could be in more danger than he'd previously imagined. "This is what, the third or fourth time there's been an attack where you were involved? Wake up and smell the coffee, Kate- you're not _safe_ here." 

He knew he'd hit a sore spot when her voice carried back through the walls of her bedroom. "If not here, Charlie, then were _am_ I safe? You put up the wards yourself!" She stormed out of the bedroom with a blue fuzzy bathrobe cinched around her waist, toweling off her hair. It stuck almost straight up in soggy blonde clumps.

Charlie sighed inwardly. _I am going to kill my brother_, he decided, resisting the urge to break something in frustration. His hand throbbed, reminding him that it wouldn't be such a great idea, anyway. "Kate," he started. _Just keep her safe. That's enough for now_. "Look, just one night, okay? I'll set up a sort of alert system that will alert the Auror squads or something tomorrow, but-"

"You'll do no such thing," Kate interrupted. "Other people are more important, Charlie. No, don't correct me, you know it's true. Forget it- it's a waste of resources. Besides, I won't have them watching me every second of every day. I don't need a babysitter." Before Charlie could protest, she continued, "But I admit that…" Her hand shook a bit as she ran it through her wet locks. "Alright. Fine. Just for one night, you understand."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I worry about you, you know."

She shook her head as she went to pack. Softly, almost quiet enough that he couldn't hear her, she muttered, "It's me that should be worried."

*

__

It was, as far as he could remember it, the worst day of his life. Another incident he would rather have avoided repeating. But, like before, Charlie had no say in the mater. He could only sit tight and listen, experience.

Early morning on the dragon reserve was always beautiful, more so when you had someone special to share it with. Charlie had, but Anya was nowhere to be found that particular morning. It wasn't rare for her to be awake before him, so he thought nothing of it as he pulled on an old robe. It was not, Charlie reflected years later, something he would have chosen to wear, had he known what was about to happen. But Charlie hadn't known, hadn't even suspected, and so when Anya had confronted him in the tiny living room, he had been caught completely unawares.

Not so this time around, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

"Charlie," Anya said, turning away from the window, "We have to talk." Her face was, oddly, tinted with the slightest amount of makeup, something Anya had never really bothered with before.

Charlie remembered his nonchalance and even his initial slight confusion as he took her about the waist and kissed her quickly. "Alright. What about?"

It was at this point that he had started to suspect: Anya looked him directly in the eye. He was not deluded by anything he saw there; he could discern no emotion at all within them. They held only resignation and…

A peculiar pleading expression as she took his hands in both of hers. "Tell me you love me." It was a pitiful request rather than the demand it should have been.

Something about this set Charlie on edge. How many times had he told her…? "I love you," he hedged. "Of course I do. You know that by now."

At this point, Anya ceased to meet his gaze. She averted her eyes out the window at the new dawn. Her voice cracked when she spoke. "It isn't enough."

He'd been dumbfounded. Their love wasn't enough? What they had… it wasn't what she wanted? It wasn't what she needed? Charlie was possessed of the urge to make everything better, like a giant bandage on their relationship. All he could manage was: "What?"

"I'm using you, Charlie," Anya confessed unashamedly, looking him in the eye again. "I'm using you, and you know it but you refuse to see it because of what I am to you."

Unable to let the question go unasked, he said, "And what might that be?" Charlie supposed he had been too stunned to ask anything more meaningful.

"A project," she replied. He had been about to interrupt with a protest or a splutter of shocked laughter, but Anya cut him off. "No, listen. You found me here. You wanted a relationship. I wanted my life back. I was a challenge, which was what you thought you needed. It was more about consolidated needs and desires and mutual satisfaction than anything, and you'll realize it if you really try to understand. It isn't healthy for you. This is not the sort of relationship you should have. You need someone who loves you for who you are, not what you represent." She stopped here, turned away from his stricken expression. "You were my best friend, Charlie. I wouldn't mind having him back."

And in an instant, Charlie was forced to make a decision: let Anya, the woman he had loved for what felt like forever, walk out of his life for what would really be forever… or go on seeing her every day, be constantly reminded of what they had been and how much he loved her… and what they would never have again.

It wasn't a decision, really, just survival instinct. What else could he have done? He opted for friendship, but he never really forgot the sense of completeness he had had as her lover.

He woke up groggy, stiff all over and feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. Charlie stretched a bit and glanced at his alarm clock, whose glowing digits informed him that it was an inhuman hour to be awake. He groaned and buried his face in his pillow, thankful once again that he didn't have to work in the morning.

Something rattled just outside his perception. Sitting up and rousing himself from his sleep, he again remembered that it was nearly time for Kate to start showing symptoms of her exposure to the Dormius Curse. Now fully awake, Charlie padded down the corridor, wiping sleep from his eyes, and in the dim almost-light saw the figure that was meant to be sleeping on his couch.

Kate was not asleep. She was hunched over in the middle of the couch, hugging her knees. Her outline was shaking visibly. Charlie was concerned and a little taken aback. If something had affected Kate this badly and it was only the first week after her exposure, he didn't know what he was going to do to help her in the weeks to come. "Kate?" he said gently, sitting down beside her on the sofa and sliding an arm around her. "Are you…" He didn't seem to be having any effect on her whatsoever. "Are you okay?" _Stupid question_, he berated himself instantly. _Of course she's not okay_. _Kate doesn't cry for anything. Or so I thought._

"No," she said miserably, burying her face in his chest.

"Do you want me to get something for you?" He had a feeling that she could use a whole lot of tranquilizers and maybe a Memory Charm to erase whatever it was that her dreams had shown her.

"No."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Someone had said something to him once about women needing to talk about their problems.

"No." Then again, Kate wasn't your ordinary woman. Half the time, he wasn't sure she was human at all.

"Do you want me to leave?" She certainly didn't seem to need him for much.

"_No._" Charlie was taken aback by the force of her negative answer. She took a deep breath, then laid her head down against his chest again. "Just stay here. Okay?"

He certainly wasn't going to refuse. "I'll be here. Don't worry." Charlie lay awake long after Kate had again succumbed to the relief unconsciousness offered.


	4. Suddenly

No Such Place

Chapter Four: Suddenly

__

Last thing I remember I was running for the door  
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before  
"Relax," said the nightman, "We are programmed to receive.  
You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave."

-Eagles, _Hotel California_

*

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling. No infringement is intended and no profit is being made.

Author's note: I realize this took forever, but believe me, I've been busy, as well as having writer's block several times. I doubt Chapter Five will take quite so long. Thanks to everyone who's still with me! 

Prize: To anyone who finds the mistake that both Jennie and I missed... and then I rediscovered while revising. I never would have noticed it if not for English class.

*

For the habitually sleep-deprived, morning came all too soon. Charlie awoke early the next day, stiff and sore, but in a mildly satisfactory way. However, he soon found that the position he was in was more closely related to 'uncomfortable' than anything else.

For one thing, he was lying beside Kate. The night before it had been slightly different. Charlie was beginning to realize how narrow his sofa was, because he was about to fall off of it. Now, with Kate in almost precariously close vicinity, Charlie was beginning to wonder things that he felt he should _not_ be wondering about his best friend. He was also beginning to feel things that he wondered if he should be feeling about his best friend. Who just happened to be female and suddenly very, very attractive. _Hell_. Charlie knew with sudden certainty that if he did not move, he really would fall off of the couch.

He had just repositioned himself so that the situation was slightly less dangerous when two subsequent shocks nullified his efforts. The first was Kate opening her eyes beside him.

The second was the appearance of Molly Weasley's head in his fireplace.

Charlie hit the ground with enough force to leave him bruised for weeks. He heard Kate giggling on the couch, trying very hard not to be heard. _She _would_ think this is funny._

"Charlie?" he heard his mother call. Kate was in muffled hysterics. "Are you there?"

He sat up, rubbing his head. Kate had buried her face in a pillow. He could see her body convulsing as she fought to control her laughter. "Here, Mum." Charlie made a mental note to get her back for this.

"Charlie!" his mother exclaimed. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"Practicing my yoga," he answered dryly. "What's up?"

"Just checking up on you, dear," Molly answered fondly. "I see you haven't managed to burn the place down yet."

This set Kate off again. The week previously, he had actually managed to make toast catch fire.

"Mum, I don't need a baby-sitter." Although, hiring a chef was something he could look into. And speaking of baby-sitters… he glanced up at Kate. He still had to ask her about (he swallowed hard just thinking about it) her plans for Valentine's day.

"Of course not, dear." And apparently her mind had made the short leap to her next favorite topic. "Have you got a girlfriend yet?"

"Mum!" Charlie exclaimed, aghast. Leave it to Molly to bring up romance in the middle of a war. A nagging little voice said something about Charlie's thoughts about Kate a few minutes previously; he ignored it. "No."

He caught the mischievous glint in Molly's eyes that Ginny sometimes got when she was teasing. "Right. Whose feet are those, then?"

Charlie followed her gaze to the end of the couch, over which hung a pair of small, dark-skinned feet. "Kate's," he answered. Both women were laughing openly now. "Or maybe Satan's."

Kate sat up, wiping sleep from her eyes, still chuckling. "We could stop making fun of you if you would just go out and get a social life."

A reluctant smile tugged at Charlie's lips. The perfect opportunity had just fallen into his lap. He would have found it even more ironic if he hadn't felt so apprehensive all of a sudden. _This is ridiculous_, he thought to himself._ It's just Kate. _"You're one to talk. When's the last time you went out?"

"Too long ago," Kate admitted with a sigh. "I'm just as bad as you. Are you happy now?"

Molly, Charlie noted curiously, was being strangely quiet and not attempting to rectify this situation in the most mutually acceptable way possible. "Not really," he answered. _Am I about to ask my best friend out on a date in front of my mother? No, no, it's not a date_._ It's _not_._ "Hey, speaking of social lives…"

The expression on Kate's face was priceless. It read, 'Uh-oh.' "What about them?"

He wondered momentarily how to phrase his next question. "Have plans for Valentine's day yet?"

"What?" she looked at him like he had suddenly said he was related to Lucius Malfoy. "Why, should I?"

Molly cleared her throat. Apparently she had a problem with Charlie asking his best friend on a date in her presence, too. _It's not a date!_ Charlie's more rational side insisted. "Am I interrupting something, dears?"

Charlie resisted the urge to groan out loud. It was no wonder he shut out his mother sometimes, he thought to himself. She could be so nosy. "Mum, there was a prowler on Kate's property last night. I didn't think it would be a particularly good idea to let her stay there until I'd had the matter looked into."

He was promptly walloped over the head with a throw pillow. "He makes it sound as if I was completely helpless!" Kate complained, sighing and turning to Charlie's mum. "It was nothing, Molly, really. Charlie effectively nipped the problem in the bud."

Molly still looked wide-eyed. "Are you sure you're alright, dear? It could have been anyone- you ought to be more careful! Charlie, maybe you should keep a closer eye on her-"

Deciding that laughing aloud at the irony would only get him into trouble with both women, he interrupted, "Done, Mum." Kate rolled her eyes. "Anyway, was there something you wanted to talk about? We have to get in to the Ministry to make a statement." His companion made another face. Charlie knew exactly how she felt.

"Just making sure you're going to drop by for dinner tonight," his mother answered affectionately.

Charlie nodded, privately dreading the event. Someone was sure to commit the minor infraction of inquiring about his personal life. It would probably be Molly. "I'll be there," he replied cheerfully, wondering why he was in such a dour mood.

"All right," she said, beaming at him. Then her eyes darted to Kate. "Seven sharp. Bring Kate with you, if you like. And mind you don't forget now, dear."

"I won't," Charlie promised. His mother vanished from his fireplace. Kate was staring at him. "What?"

She shook herself, as if waking from a trance. "The rapid attitude shift just hit full force, that's all." She was quiet for a second, then started giggling again.

"Oh, stuff it," he pleaded, trying vainly to withhold what he wasn't sure was a pout or a grin. "It wasn't _that_ funny."

"Yes it was," Kate said helplessly, breaking out again into full-out laughter and burying her face in the sofa, beating it with her fists. After some time, she looked up, having composed herself. "Sorry."

"I'll bet you are," he said bitingly, but the grin escaped. "Alright, alright, it was pretty funny."

"Told you so." 

"Anyway, you never answered my question," Charlie said, hoping to change the subject. He prayed that Kate wouldn't read any more into it than he himself wanted to.

"Question?" An expression of confusion crossed her face. "Oh! About Valentine's day."

"Yeah. So do you have plans?" _It's just because I didn't want to spend the day babysitting_, Charlie told himself. While he wouldn't really have minded this, spending time with Kate was definitely preferable. Besides, he didn't want to get caught in a lie…

"'Course not," she replied, stifling a yawn. "I just told you, no social life whatsoever. Why, Charlie? Were you going to ask me out?"

Her teasing tone and impish grin wounded him; involuntarily, he flinched. "Well, the fact of the matter is that I don't have anything to do, either," he said defensively. "And I'd much rather spend the holiday with you than home by myself eating Feel-Good Fizzbees." 

Kate gave him an evaluating stare before nodding. "Sure." Somehow he hadn't expected her to consent so readily. "Meet me at my place at seven."

He wondered, minutes after she left, if he knew what he was getting himself into.

*

"Kate? Damn!" Charlie stumbled out of the fireplace, smacking his head on the mantel for the nth time since Kate had moved into the little cottage. "We've got to go- somebody's waiting to take our statements."

He thought he heard a noise of disgust from the vicinity of the kitchen table. He turned toward the sound and tried very hard to contain himself. Kate was sitting at her kitchen table, evidently eating a late lunch. Beside her sat none other than Oliver Wood.

Charlie wondered if the other man were smirking at him. "Hello, Oliver," he said, keeping his tone carefully neutral. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Kate evidently saw a situation that needed to be defused. "Yes, well, I didn't expect him to be here- he was in Hogsmeade and just dropped by unexpectedly. Oliver, I'm sorry I didn't tell you-"

"Did something happen?" interrupted Oliver in a concerned voice that made Charlie want to punch something. The dominating thought in his brain seemed to be, 'she's _my_ friend.' This was irrational, he knew, as there was no reason Kate couldn't be friends with both of them. He put the momentary jealousy down to lack of sleep and extreme stress. "You never said anything," he said in an almost whine. It made Charlie feel sick to his stomach.

"Relax," Charlie said before Kate could defend herself. "I took care of it."

Instead, she made a noise of exasperation. "Oh, really. As if I couldn't take care of myself!"

"We're just concerned," pointed out Oliver. 

Though it was true, Charlie resented the fact that Oliver was standing up for him. It only annoyed him further that he was absolutely right. "Right. Now, can we go before I have to face the wrath of the General again?"

Kate rolled her eyes, but got up from the table. "Fine, but you owe me lunch," she said with the hint of a grin.

"I already owe you lunch. I think. Or did you collect on that already?"

She shrugged. "If you've lost track, I have. Are we ready?"

"I think so."

Kate turned to her guest. "Bye, Oliver. I guess you can let yourself out by now." The way she smiled at him- or rather just the fact that she was smiling at him- caused Charlie's fists to clench quite involuntarily. Again, he fought back the jealous impulse. This was ridiculous. He decided that he would have to kill his brother. Maybe then he would stop noticing things like this.

He steered Kate towards the fireplace and tossed in a pinch of Floo powder. "The Mud Pit!" For security reasons, the Floo callsign of the Ministry of Magic changed constantly. A person who needed to Floo in was given a location that would only work once and only on a certain day. Needless to say, there was a security check the moment they stepped out the fireplace on the other end.

Once that relatively mild intrusion on their personal space was over with, they were in the Magical Law Enforcement corridor. 

"What exactly am I supposed to tell this guy?" Kate said with something of a yawn. Charlie wondered if she hadn't slept so well the previous night, either. For some reason he felt oddly guilty.

"Whatever he asks you," he answered, his mind responding to the suggestive powers of her yawn as well. He reached the door and held a passkey in front of it, which disappeared in a puff of smoke when the door opened. "After you."

*

"I'm guessing that's how you hurt your hand," General Antilles observed dryly. "Following the no-magic in close quarters protocol, I suppose." He looked at Kate, as if realizing exactly what he had just said and what he might have given away. "Am I incorrect in assuming…" 

Kate looked at Charlie, confusion written all over her face. Charlie winced. Would he have to tell her after all? Would she piece everything together? He held his breath, then exhaled resignedly. "She doesn't know, sir. I thought it would put her in unnecessary danger."

The General raised an eyebrow. "Frankly, Charlie, anyone you associate with is in danger. Especially you, Miss Beard." He tapped his fingertips together, then picked up his quill and began to write. "I want you to go see the Professor," he said, tearing off a sheet of notepaper and handing it to him. "Bring her with you. I don't want to take any chances."

Charlie didn't know whether to be relieved or upset. If Kate was in this much danger, maybe he should just-

Before he could open his mouth to speak, the General interrupted gently, "It's too late for that, Charlie. Go see the Professor."

Charlie dropped his gaze to the floor. It was not the first time the General had read him like that, and he doubted it would be the last. It was an uncanny ability, and one Charlie wished that he possessed. "All right." He looked exasperatedly at Kate, who still seemed to be trying to figure out what exactly it was the General had almost given away. "Let's go. Thank you, sir."

The older man merely nodded, and Charlie could feel his gaze burning into his back as they left. 

When the door closed, Kate turned on him. "Alright, what is it that General Antilles assumed I'd know? And why did he assume it? Why isn't he right?" She crossed her arms and looked up at him expectantly.

Charlie sighed. It was probably only a matter of time before she pieced things together by herself anyway, but the longer she was kept in the dark, the better. "You might as well know, I suppose." He ran a hand through his hair. "The General is a very intelligent man, and I don't doubt that he gave that particular bit of information away on purpose. Yeah, I work for the Ministry's armed forces. I can't be any more specific than that here- it's too open." Hoping that would satisfy her curiosity, he kept walking.

Unfortunately, Kate knew him far too well. Apparently she had guessed that the reason he had given up _that _information so easily was so that he wouldn't have to explain the rest. "And Antilles just assumed that I'd know what he was talking about because…"

"It's a long story," he stalled, hoping to evade answering entirely. 

"We've got time," Kate pointed out. "After all, we've got to go to the EPD Wing. That's practically the other side of the Ministry."

Charlie stopped again, pounded his fist three times against a blank section of wall, and smiled slightly as a panel slid aside. "Not if you know what I know." He allowed her to slip through, then followed her in. They stepped out at one end of the vast Experimental Potions Development Wing.

"Slick," she noted, brushing a cobweb from the sleeve of her robes. "But don't think you're going to get out of answering."

He cursed inwardly. "Fine." She regarded him impassively as they stepped onto a moving pathway. "But you're not going to like it." Her expression read exactly the same as it had moments before. "They think you're my…" He squirmed. Why was this so difficult? "Mistress."

Kate watched him for a moment more without twitching, then burst into laughter. "They do, do they? That's quite a ways off base. Do they think I train pigs to fly, as well?" 

Charlie crossed his arms, wondering how he had gone from cautious and embarrassed to defensive so quickly. "I told you it was ridiculous."

Her mirth subsiding, Kate wiped a tear from her eye. "You're going to have to introduce me to some of your working buddies."

"As my lover?" he said, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice. _This is all Bill's fault_. Then again, if it hadn't been for Bill, that prowler might have actually gotten into Kate's cottage, and that was certainly not desirable.

He regretted his tone almost instantly as Kate looked up at him with a contemplative expression. She said nothing, however, until the floor carried them to the correct laboratory. Then, before he could wave General Antilles' note before the Magi-Sealed door to gain entrance, she spoke so softly that he almost thought he'd imagined it. "Sorry, Charlie." Inexplicably, her hand found its way into his own and gave a soft squeeze, then was mysteriously gone, leaving him more confused than he had been the moment before.

The door slid aside and the two of them walked in. "What do you want?" an oily and very familiar voice demanded.

"Hello to you too, Severus," Kate replied with a miniscule shake of her head. She exchanged a knowing glance with Charlie. "Aren't you going to invite us in?"

"It would seem a bit late for that," he replied dryly, stepping out from behind a series of beakers and test tubes, some bubbling, some smoking, some slowly changing colour. "What brings you here, Miss Beard?" 

"Him," she replied, jerking her thumb in Charlie's direction. "His boss sent us here, actually."

Charlie stepped forward reluctantly. That he and Severus Snape failed to get along was the understatement of the century. He handed the Potions master the note from General Antilles. He had to admit that he was in awe of the man- how he managed to be absent from Hogwarts, fulfill his duties as Headmaster, and still have time to create and modify valuable potions was beyond his comprehension. Although he'd sooner bite his tongue off than tell Snape that. "We need the vaccine. Is it finished?"

Snape's eyes drifted over to Kate. Charlie stiffened; it was very trying that Kate somehow managed to make friends with people he disliked. Or maybe they liked to make friends with her. Either way, he wasn't sure he was comfortable with it, especially given Snape's… friendliness… with other women that had been a part of his life. "Hasn't she already been exposed?"

Charlie nodded, feeling guilty. "I was too late last time."

Hogwarts' new Headmaster sighed and grasped an unlabeled vial from a table. "I'll need to test that note, Weasley."

"Be my guest."

Snape inserted the note into the vial and watched as the once-clear liquid turned green, then back to its waterlike state. He sighed. "That seems to be in order, then. Follow me." 

The back of the Potions Lab resembled something between a maze and catacombs. The uneven floor was fashioned from limestone, worn in places from millennia of chemical spills and dedicated craftsmanship. The marble tabletops were pockmarked and rough, placed illogically around the laboratory. Snape finally stopped near the far wall, banged his fist down on the nearest table, and then descended a series of stairs that appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Downstairs was another story entirely. Where the original worn limestone had been, there was now smooth obsidian. The sole table, huge as it was, stood in the middle of the room and was not any substance that Charlie could recognize. An incredibly complex series of tubes, wires, fires, cauldrons and timers sat upon it. Reluctantly, Charlie acknowledged that the Professor was probably the world's most accomplished Potions master.

Snape strode purposefully to the table and retrieved a small flask. "Weasley."

Understanding that he was being summoned and that the subject matter was not for Kate to overhear, Charlie went to stand beside him. "Well?"

"If she takes the potion," said the Professor seriously, "her ability to use magic will be significantly, though temporarily, reduced. It's a reaction that happens because she has already been exposed. Before I administer this, I want your solemn promise not to let her out of your sight for two days. It's too dangerous."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "What, like it was too dangerous for me to be seen anywhere near Chloë these past two years? I guess Kate's not good enough for you. Don't worry about it- I'll take care of her."

Looking pained, Severus nodded. "Fine. Miss Beard, drink this, please."

She looked at them curiously, but took a sip without any real hesitation, then began coughing. Kate gave the flask back to Snape, who passed it in turn to Charlie. "That should be sufficient."

Shrugging, Charlie tipped it back and downed the rest of the contents. It burned a little like Firewhiskey going down, but generally wasn't too terrible. The next few minutes passed in something of a blur, ending with Snape handing Charlie a list of possible side effects and gracefully showing them the door.

"Hungry?" Charlie asked, hearing his stomach grumble.

Kate nodded and pulled out her wand. "Where to?"

He winced inwardly. He had hoped that he could keep her from killing him for a little while longer. "You know what? Let's walk."

Unfortunately, Kate didn't fall for it. "It's February," she said firmly. "What's wrong with you, and why haven't you told me?"

"Wrong?" Charlie feigned innocence. "There's nothing _wrong_ with me…"

Kate crossed her arms and gave him the look that meant she knew he was hiding something.

Unhappily, he gave in. "Fine. There really isn't anything wrong with me. The truth is I've already had to test two of these vaccines, this one's actually supposed to work, and none of them have affected me other than the odd twitch here or there. But that's because I haven't actually _had_ the Dormius virus."

She paled noticeably. When she spoke, her voice was soft but firm. "And for those who have been exposed?"

"No magic," Charlie said bluntly. "Two days."

Her mouth dropped open. "And you didn't _tell _me? Charlie, how could you?"

"In case you didn't notice, your pal Severus didn't tell you, either!" he said defensively. "And you needed the vaccine- admit it, Kate. You haven't slept properly in days- I remember the way you were tossing last night. You forgot I was coming over to take you to the Ministry this morning. You can't tell me it hasn't been affecting you!"

Kate grumbled unhappily. "If we were in the Muggle world, I'd be suing for malpractice."

"Only if you were greedy," Charlie hypothesized. "Fly you to a late lunch?"

*

The Glass Slipper opened at three, but although it was past that hour it was not yet busy. Charlie and Kate, who were starving, found a table near the waterfall on the first floor. "Do all of you mysterious Ministry people come here regularly?" Kate asked curiously, her gaze fixed on the waterfall.

"Only in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," he said, then elaborated, "Our favorite pub is downstairs."

She grinned. "That explains it. So you work for the DMLE?"

Charlie paused for a moment, wondering how much to tell her. He decided that he might as well just tell her everything. After all, he was fairly sure he was already putting her in a great deal of danger. She might as well know why. "Part of it, although technically we're under the jurisdiction of the Unspeakables. I guess you understand that I can't really tell you anything more about them."

Kate nodded interestedly. "What exactly do you do?"

"I work with a group of Aurors with special skills. We work a lot with pygmy dragons, most of us are broomstick experts, and none of us liked our previous jobs."

"You're making up the bit about the dragons," she guessed, eyes twinkling. "Nobody at the Ministry is that crazy."

Charlie laughed. "You met General Antilles, right?" He decided not to point out that Kate also worked at the Ministry.

The waitress cut into their conversation then, forcing them to pursue another venue which didn't include disclosing military secrets. They spent a good part of the evening dining upstairs, but both agreed that the pub in the basement was far more entertaining.

"Charlie, my head hurtsh." Kate stood up, pressed her palm to her forehead, wobbled, and sat back down on her stool again. "My bum hurts, too."

He chuckled. When he had noticed how much the alcohol Kate had consumed seemed to be affecting her, he had decided that he was the designated non-drinker. "Lightweight. Want to go home?" Actually, it was rather late, and he was not relishing the thought of waking up when a new day dawned. It would probably, Charlie reasoned, be much worse for Kate, because she would almost certainly have an excruciating hangover in the morning.

"Yesh," Kate slurred, stumbling to her feet again. "Do we have to… you know… broom thing?"

"Fly?" Charlie supplied. "No. I have a Portkey, if you think you can handle that."

She groaned. "The only thing I feel like handling right now is-" a hiccup swallowed the rest of her sentence, and she didn't repeat whatever it was she had meant to say.

"Come here," Charlie instructed, leaving the correct amount of gold on the bar. He wrapped an arm around Kate's waist and reached into the pocket of his robe. _Guess I'll get the broom in the morning. _"Ready?"

With a stomach-churning lurch the throbbing pub was replaced with Charlie's well-used living room. "Jesush Chrisht," Kate swore, clinging onto Charlie's arm. He used both of his to steady her. "That was a wild ride."

"Sorry," he apologized. "I should have warned you. Do you want some aspartame, or something? They're a Muggle remedy for headaches."

Kate looked up at him, seemingly finding her balance and some semblance of sobriety at the same time. "I don't have a headache."

"But didn't you just say-"

She leaned in closer and lowered her voice as well as her eyes. "Do _you_?" 

Charlie's mind had barely registered its shock that Kate was about to kiss him when her lips touched his. His pulse raced, his hair stood on end, his blood sang in his ears; Kate's mouth opened under his and he found himself in the very awkward position of a man who has just realized what he wants and that he can have it- but also that he should not take advantage of his situation. The bittersweet taste of alcohol reminded him that Kate was not in control of her own actions; his heart thumped out several warnings- _she's drunk, she'll kill you, back off_- but he couldn't listen. Control and restraint both suddenly seemed very overrated. Maybe this, Charlie reasoned, was the push they needed in order to become more than best friends. 

So they continued kissing, and after a moment Kate's blouse found its way to the floor, and Charlie's hands began to explore the soft, creamy skin that had been hidden beneath it-

Until Kate went completely limp in Charlie's arms. Charlie sighed resignedly and put his arm under her knees and carried her to his bedroom, vowing never again to allow Kate to drink so much. Carefully, so as not to disturb her (unlikely as this was), he pulled off her shoes and tucked his comforter around her. As an afterthought, he retrieved her blouse from the living room and laid it on the end of the bed, then placed a large empty bowl beside the bed as a precaution. 

__

Is this some sort of sign? Charlie wondered, troubled, gazing at the woman asleep in his bed. He had already put her in incredible danger. The reason she had been attacked so often was because she was associated with him, he was sure of it. And yet, indirectly, it was this danger that had brought her to his arms and to his bedroom.

Well, whatever happened, standing here and philosophizing was not getting him anywhere. Charlie wandered off to his sofa in search of sleep and peace of mind.

*

There were several things on Charlie's mind the following morning, but issues having to do with Kate were being forced, much against their will, to the back of his mind. However, this did not mean that he was not making coffee, closing blinds and finding aspirin in anticipation of her hangover. It just meant that he wasn't _thinking_ about doing it. In actuality, he was devoting ninety percent of his attention to the Muggle newspaper in front of him. The other ten percent was mutinying by monitoring sounds coming from his bedroom without his consent.

That ten percent increased tenfold when it heard a muffled voice from the bedroom say something that sounded suspiciously like, "Merlin's testicles!"

Charlie endeavored not to smile and succeeded, to some extent. He waited a moment while the curse was followed by an indefinite groaning and the flopping of an aching and exhausted body back into the warm cocoon from whence it came. Only then did he deem it safe to enter, which he did, armed with black coffee and painkillers, but disarmed by the fact that he could not forget or even stop thinking about the events of the previous night.

"Kate?"

She groaned again. "I feel like a manticore shat on my head." Generally the sensation of being really damn hung over would not be compared to having one's head shat on, but then, those who didn't find this an apt simile had never experienced manticore droppings. They were so potent that they were not merely seen or smelled, they were _felt_. They were heard miles away. They burned like acid. And that was if you were lucky.

"I doubt you consumed quite that much alcohol. But the sensation is normal. Really, I thought you'd hold your alcohol better." He handed her the coffee mug with a cheery grin. "Painkillers for your thoughts?"

"I'll take two." Kate downed both aspirin and half the cup of coffee in one gulp, then clutched at her head with her other hand. "I'm sorry, Charlie."

"Sorry?" The vague notion that he might have to panic niggled in the back of Charlie's mind. "What for?"

Kate gestured around her, unconsciously exposing most of the red bra she was wearing as Charlie's blankets slipped down from around her shoulders. "For this. For being so bloody drunk you had to take care of me. Was I much trouble?"

So. She didn't remember anything, then. Charlie didn't know whether to be relieved or hurt and settled for a combination of the two. Realizing she expected a reply of some sort, he relied upon sarcasm and hoped she wouldn't pick up on his mood change. "Well, no. There was one incident at the pub where you kept hitting on some mysterious stranger, but I wouldn't let you take advantage of him. You were quite cross at the time, as I remember. I think you called me a malformed, feather-brained griffin on laxatives, but I'm not really sure."

"Oh," she answered, seemingly satisfied, and finished the rest of her coffee. Charlie took the mug from her carefully and she lie back against the pillows again. Parts of her bra were still exposed, but she apparently hadn't noticed yet. She looked good in his bed, his treacherous mind noted. "Well, thank you just the same."

"It's not a problem," Charlie said, suddenly feeling the urge to claim that he would take care of her whenever she was drunk, just as long as she didn't get _quite_ so drunk as she had the night before. "Er- I should go… have to buy groceries… before the shops close, you know…"

Kate nodded, then stopped, winced, and held her head very still against the pillow. 

"Um," said Charlie articulately. "You just… stay here… and I'll be back with something for breakfast…" Most likely cereal, he decided. He was somewhat lacking in the culinary talent department.

"Bye, Charlie," came the pained farewell from the bed. Then, just after he had turned to walk to the door, the tone over her voice changed and the inflection turned very sober and extremely curious, the exact combination Charlie had been dreading. "Charlie…"

He had to turn to face her again.

"When I was drunk… I mean, I didn't… we didn't…" Kate bit her lip. She seemed, for once, at a loss for words. "I didn't? Try anything? I mean… with you? Did I? Uh… did we…?"

For once, Charlie actually _wanted_ to blush. But he couldn't. And he had to lie. "No," he said, keeping his expression completely sincere and devoid of all emotion. "No, you didn't. We didn't. Nothing happened. At all. We're best friends. We would never do that. It would ruin us." He wondered if he was convincing Kate. He sure as hell wasn't convincing himself. Without another word, he turned and walked out.

"Oh," said Kate to the empty apartment. "That's what I was afraid of."

*

Charlie closed the door behind him and leaned against it. There was no denying it now- he loved her. He'd kissed her, and that hadn't been the end of it. Or had she kissed him? Did it make that much of a difference? Probably not, he decided. He had invited her to dinner and got her rather drunk. He helped her, as he always had and probably always would. And he had lied to her to protect her feelings. He simply wasn't too sure that he had been convincing. Hell, he wasn't even sure he _had_ spared her feelings. 

There was an owl waiting on the kitchen table. Charlie recognized it immediately- it was Hermes. He unfurled the letter and began to read.

__

Charlie,

You forgot about dinner, didn't you? Your mother is very upset and quite worried. A man your age ought to be more responsible! You are all right, aren't you? Nothing has happened? Your mother expects an apology and an explanation toot sweet. 

Your father

Charlie swore. Arthur rarely wrote owls to his children, and when he did they were usually somewhat longer and interspersed with random bits of information about Muggle technology. He certainly didn't usually sign them 'your father.' He was obviously somewhat angry.

To tell the truth, Charlie had completely forgotten about dinner. At seven he'd been in the pub below The Glass Slipper with Kate, watching amusedly as she drank herself into oblivion. He wondered if this qualified as another 'Kate crisis' to be explained as such to his mother, but dismissed the notion. He could come up with something closer to the truth which would be more likely to pass the inspection. Anyway, Kate shouldn't be misused as an excuse.

He sighed, grabbed his keys and wand, and headed for the door. Before he could get there, the bedroom spoke. "Oh," it said. "That's what I was afraid of." 

Charlie paused. What did that mean? What was it he had last said? Something about their friendship? That they hadn't had any inappropriate relations? He wasn't sure anymore, which was a huge inconvenience. Then again, whatever it was didn't necessarily relate to what it was that Kate was saying… 

Anyway, he had things to do, other crises to worry about. He had to apologize to his mother, for one. And retrieve his broom. And above all, he thought as his stomach growled, find some breakfast. He locked the door on his way out.

*

"Christ, Charlie," commented Riley when Charlie dragged himself into work the next day. He'd been unable to sleep the night before- his mind had been too occupied analyzing and reanalyzing anything and everything he and Kate had ever said and done. He was quite sure he would never look at himself the same way again. "You look like hell. Rough weekend?"

"Um," said Charlie. After a weekend with Kate it was difficult to slip back into manspeak. "You might say that." He ran his hands back through his hair and set his head down on the table, only barely noticing the somewhat cold looks he was receiving from the team's golden boy.

"Well, I hope you're happy," Oliver said stiffly. Charlie wondered who had pissed in Oliver's porridge that morning.

Riley cleared his throat, presumably to alleviate tension. "Right. Anyway, boys, Antilles tells me they have finally developed a workable vaccine, so good work with that formula." He pulled open a drawer and tossed a thick file onto the desktop. "Next order of business-" he flipped it open. Charlie's eyes blurred at the amount of text. "Files on every suspected Death Eater and their families. We want to find the link between the Dark Side and the Elves _now_, before it escalates into a bigger problem. Basically that means we all get to study a lot of family trees." Charlie grimaced.

"Last thing for today," Riley said, looking at his watch, "is damage control."

Maybe the day wouldn't be a total loss after all. 'Damage control' was the Unspeakable slang for 'play nasty buggers and spy on Ministry workers.' Because they were Unspeakables and also highly trained in the arts of using Invisibility Charms, it was hard for security leaks to know they were being watched, tested, and evaluated constantly. Big Brother was _always_ watching. And Charlie had five younger siblings. He was glad he was one of the three senior officers- the other four members of the Squad had to be on duty in case of an attack. Personally, he thought he was probably better use in the field, but there was no telling what sensitive information was being leaked at any time, so he was willing to do his part. If that included snitching doughnuts whenever convenient, well, so be it.

*

"I'm _sorry_, Mum," Charlie asserted for the umpteenth time. "Really! I didn't mean to worry you. You remember the incident I told you about; we had to go to the Ministry and give statements and then we had both skipped lunch-" Seeing the alarmed look on her face, he explained, "It was no big deal, Mum, really. I took care of it."

Percy chose that moment to bustle in importantly, a file folder open in his arms. He glanced up momentarily, made a noise that could have been a slight hint of contempt, and strode out again, calling to Arthur about something important he'd found within it. 

"Took care of it!" his mother exclaimed. Then she sighed and sank down into a chair. "I forget sometimes that you're grown up now and can manage your own life. But you really could include us a little more, Charlie. Don't get me wrong, I love Kate like a daughter," here Charlie had to refrain from both groaning and blushing, "although you could bring her to dinner more, but even though we're only blood relatives and not soul mates, we're your family, too."

It was probably pointless to explain that he and Kate were not romantically involved, because to tell the truth, he wasn't sure anymore that they weren't. "Of course, Mum."

"Good. I expect you Sunday- day after Valentine's day. _Don't_ be late," a warning gleamed in her eyes and Charlie realized that his mother was every bit as intimidating as she had been two decades ago. "And mind you bring Kate with you."

__

Right, he thought. _Of course, Mum. _

*

"Tell me again what we're looking for?" Kate said from the base of the ladder Charlie was perched on. 

"_Elf Genealogy_," Charlie grunted, heaving a huge tome off of a shelf and passing it down, "_Elven Magic, Uses of. Elfish Medicine. Adaptations of Anciente Magick for Modern Wizardrie. A Modern Encyclopedia on How to Alter Really Old Spells_- well, this one's in the wrong place, but it sounds useful. _Elven Texts Through the Ages. The Elf and the Uni_-" Charlie stopped himself. "Maybe we can do without that one." Below him, he heard Kate snicker. He dropped another volume onto the top of the pile she was holding and the snicker turned into something that sounded like 'oomph.'

"I think," Kate said, sounding strained, "that if you want any more books, we ought to make two trips."

"No, I think that's it," he replied, and jumped lightly off the ladder. He took the topmost few books and headed towards the main office of the Ministry's library. "For now, anyway. We can do more research later."

"We?" she said incredulously, following him. "_This_ is what you had planned for today?" She sounded a little ticked off.

He shrugged. "Someone has to do it." _Besides_, he thought to himself, _it's my fault Alicia's in St. Mungo's in the first place. I might as well see if I can find her a way out of there._ "You don't have to help. I haven't got anything better to do tonight, but maybe you do." _Maybe part of the reason I'm looking for that cure is to distract Oliver._ _From you_. Although, he hadn't thought that particular aspect all the way through until now. He didn't want Kate to be heartbroken. He _did_ want Alicia to wake up and Oliver to back off. What if he were causing a chain reaction?

"Don't be daft," Kate commanded, struggling to heave up several heavy volumes of text onto the Librarian's desk. The woman behind it was watching them speculatively. "Of course I'll help you. I just hope you remembered your library card."

"Library card?" Charlie asked, a trifle confused. Probably some Muggle invention Kate had heard about. "Hello, Jennie." He held his palm out over the scanner that the Librarian was holding out to him. 

"Preparing for a little light reading, I see," the Librarian answered amusedly. She then tapped her wand on each of the books. After each tap, the tip of her wand shone green for a moment to confirm the temporary transfer of the tomes to his care. Inside the front cover, the words _Charles Weasley, DMLE_ appeared. When Jennie got down to the last volume, however, the tip of the wand glowed red. "Sorry, Charlie. It looks as if you don't have the authorization to take out this one. Maybe if Miss Beard…"

Kate held her hand over the scanner, looking slightly curious as to how the Librarian had known her name. Once the book was assigned to her, they picked up the books and left. Kate looked down at the book on the top of her pile. "Why do you think I had the authorization to take out that book, Charlie?" she asked quietly.

He started. He had been too preoccupied in his pondering of Alicia's predicament to even think about that. "Which was it?" he asked back, now curious himself.

"I guess we'll find out." A few moments later they stumbled out of his fireplace and deposited the huge pile of material on his coffee table. "This one," Charlie said after a moment's sorting, holding up _Elf Genealogy_. "Wonder why?" He opened it and was not surprised to find page after page of convoluted family trees. 

Kate shrugged. "Maybe you're not supposed to know which Elf is related to today's politicians?" She looked a little uncomfortable. "Anyway, I'm guessing we're looking up ancient uses of the Dormius Curse, remedies, how it was adapted…?" She grabbed _Adaptations of Anciente Magick for Modern Wizardrie_ and flipped to the index a little nervously. 

Cataloguing this fact in the back of his mind, Charlie turned to a more useful text, _Elfish Medicine_, and let it absorb him.

It was a long time before Kate distracted him again by speaking. "Is there anything in there about sick trances being induced for the chronically ill, Charlie?"

He flipped to the back of the textbook. "I think so. Just a minute." The index directed him to page 1052 and he began scanning through the text. "Actually, it does seem to be a variation of the Dormius Curse. Apparently they put the ancient Elves used to put their sick into trances to preserve them until they could travel far enough to get a doctor or an obscure remedy." Charlie skimmed over a few pages of irrelevant examples. "And used to wake them up by…" He paused, dumbstruck, and thought immediately of Alicia. "You're _kidding_ me."

"What?" said Kate, her curiosity piqued.

"It's like a real life Cinderella story," Charlie explained. "Or it could be- there were other ways to wake the dead, as it were. But most common, especially for She-Elves who fell ill, was a tradition to have the young man who set out on the quest for her wake her with a kiss. And of course in the mindset of the ancient Elves that constituted a binding contract and the two were destined to be married. Of course, that often turned out not to happen because the Elf on the quest never returned." He shrugged. "We hardly ever think of things like that these days because it seems impractical and unrealistic. But I wonder if Alicia-" He stopped himself, realizing he'd gone too far.

"Alicia?" Kate repeated, her eyebrows raised. "Alicia Spinnet? Charlie, what do you know about Alicia Spinnet that I don't?"

He had forgotten whom he was talking to, and that she knew a great deal about the personal life of Oliver Wood. And Oliver and Alicia had been on the same Quidditch team, hadn't they, and so naturally they had been close. Kate, apparently, knew something he didn't.

"Charlie. She's dead. Right?"

Charlie squirmed uncomfortably. "That's classified information."

Kate stood up. "Charles Weasley," she said in a voice that didn't need extra volume to convey its meaning, "there is another man out there who tore his life apart when Alicia Spinnet disappeared, and if you don't tell me what you know then so help me, I'll tell Oliver that you know."

He sighed. Kate had played her trump card and as usual he had to give in. Which was probably for the better anyway. After all, this would probably take Oliver off of Kate's hands… But what if Kate didn't want that? What if what Kate wanted _was_ Oliver? Charlie covered his eyes with his hand for a second. He was overanalyzing the situation and making it as difficult for himself as possible. He sighed again. "All right. Go find Oliver."

She looked up at him for a half a second before throwing her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Charlie." Then she was gone.


	5. Follow

No Such Place

Chapter Five: Follow

__

A dragon lives forever, but not so little boys;  
Painted wings and giant strings make way for other toys.  
One gray night it happened Jackie Paper came no more  
And Puff the mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar.

-Puff the Magic Dragon_, Peter, Paul and Mary_

*

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all the things that go with it belong to J. K. Rowling and now probably Warner Brothers as well.

Note: I apologize for the skewed POV in this chapter; it was necessary, as Oliver is sort of... important. It should have been in On His Own instead, but somehow I think I will end up combining the two into one big Charlie-and-Oliver stew (what could be better?). Oh, yes. And this chapter is rather mushy, even for me... try not to hate it too much. 

Thanks as always to Jennie for the edit.

*

Kate came running back in two seconds later. "I just thought of something."

"Astounding," Charlie said dryly, piling the tomes that so far had not yielded useful information into a pile and grabbing _Elfish Medicine_ to take with them. "Care to share?"

She took a deep breath and said bluntly, "What if it doesn't work?"

He blinked. The possibility hadn't really occurred to him. "Then it doesn't work, I suppose."

"And Oliver goes home heartbroken! We can't tell him what he's doing."

"What! Then how are we supposed to get him to do it?" Charlie crossed his arms. "Kate, there are some risks you just have to take in life, and this is one of them."

She sighed exasperatedly. "Shouldn't Oliver be the one to decide whether he takes the risk?"

"Kate, have you even _met_ Oliver Wood?" Charlie asked incredulously. "Don't you think that if there were even the slightest chance of curing Alicia, Oliver would do it in a heartbeat?"

"Yes, but that's not to say he wouldn't be torn up when it didn't work! We can't go rushing him into something like this!"

"Who's rushing? Do you know how long Alicia's been in stasis?"

Kate stopped short and Charlie cringed. He kept letting things slip out in unguarded moments. "No," she said, her voice calculating, sharp, and demanding. "How long _has_ Alicia been in stasis, Charlie?"

"Never mind. It's not important. But now that you're not rushing off to get Oliver- don't you think we should think this out a bit more?" Her expression clearly read 'Explain.' Charlie continued. "Look, if we go in to St. Mungo's now, we're going to be seen. Which means that logically, if _Alicia_ walks _out_ of St. Mungo's, she is also going to be seen."

"And?" Kate challenged.

He rolled his eyes. "Kate, if someone who has been in St. Mungo's for as long as Alicia has just gets up and walks out again, someone is going to notice. She and anyone with her will become a target for Dark wizards. In case you hadn't noticed, _you_ are already a target. _I_ am already a target. Oliver is also a target. Going into St. Mungo's and 'rescuing' Alicia is just like a big 'kick me' sign."

She thought for a moment, and then nodded. Still, Charlie wasn't off the hook yet. "_Oliver_'s a target?"

*

When Oliver came to the door, he was bleary-eyed, aiming a wand, and wearing a loose bathrobe and boxer shorts. He looked more than a little surprised to see the pair on his doorstep. "Er... hello. Is there something I can do for the two of you?" He swallowed a yawn. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Time to go," Charlie said shortly. "Get dressed. I'll explain on the way."

"Um," Oliver replied, glancing warily at Kate.

"She knows everything."

"Oh." Searching their faces, probably for signs that he should be alarmed, Oliver acquiesced. "Give me two minutes. Are we flying?"

"Apparating." Something behind the door was shuffling around and Charlie folded his arms across his chest. "Company?" he asked lightly.

Oliver's face colored a bit, but he stood his ground. "I was lonely," he excused. "Besides, she doesn't get along well with her coworkers."

"That's because you spoil her, Oliver," Charlie said with a grin. "I hope you haven't fed her any Pepper Imps." Oliver stepped back to let them in the door and a light above it flashed green; Oliver noted it duly and Kate closed the door behind her. "Hello, Nadzia. What are you doing up?"

Kate looked a little shocked. "Oliver. There's a baby _dragon_ in your apartment."

"Actually, she's a pygmy. Don't tell my landlord." He turned to Charlie. "I thought you said you'd told her everything?"

"_Nadzia_?"

"It's Polish," said Oliver defensively.

Charlie shrugged, scratching the dragon behind her horns. "I did. I'm not responsible if she didn't believe me." He looked up again, suddenly serious. "Hurry up, Oliver. This is important. Someone's life depends on it." Although at first he could not believe he'd said that, he soon found that melodrama was kind of fun.

"Only one?" Oliver asked dryly, retrieving a robe from the closet and struggling into it. It looked a little ridiculous without a shirt underneath of it, but it was good enough for what time it was. Charlie and Kate had decided to collect him at an inconvenient time on the good chance that the area near Oliver's flat was under surveillance. They had arrived via a special Stealth Portkey to avoid detection. "Right. Where to?"

"St. Mungo's," Kate answered. Oliver had just enough time to look alarmed before the three of them Disapparated.

*

"St. Mungo's?" he repeated once they'd arrived. He glanced around, anxious. Oliver absolutely abhorred St. Mungo's. He didn't deal well with sick people; there was nothing he could do to help them. "Who-"

Kate laid her hand on his arm; Charlie seemed to be fighting a frown. "It's easier if we just show you."

Oliver raised his eyebrows, but followed them without a word into the reception area. "Identification, please," the night-clerk asked with a slight yawn. 

Charlie and Oliver handed over their F.L.A.M.E. badges and Kate tossed her Ministry ID on the counter. The clerk scanned them and handed them back. "All right. New experimental drug?"

"Yeah," Charlie answered. He jerked his thumb in Oliver's direction. "Him. Let's go."

Oliver scampered along after the two of them. Some things happened way too fast, especially during the hours when healthy people were unconscious. "You got me out of bed and took me to St. Mungo's-"

"Yes," said Charlie distractedly, making a seemingly random turn down an unmarked, seemingly normal corridor. In fact the only thing that wasn't inconspicuous about it was that it didn't have any doors.

"Through the high-security reception area-" His brain was trying vainly to make the proper connections.

"Yes. Do you have a point?"

"-And now we're going down some very bizarre hallways that have no markings and I'm supposedly some sort of _cure_-?"

"Shut up, Oliver," Kate said, not unkindly.

He sighed. "I am definitely helping you two out the next time you plan a mission. Especially the briefing part. Quite frankly, you suck at it."

"No, we don't," Charlie said, stopping before a blank section of wall. He held his palm up to it; around its outline the wall glowed blue. "We're just really _good_ at the mission secrecy part."

Oliver did his best not to gape.

Not good enough. "Close your mouth, Oliver. You're letting in flies. Now, are you coming, or aren't you?" Kate stood in the hidden doorway with one hand on her hips.

__

What have I gotten myself into? Oliver wondered. What else could he do but follow?

The room they entered was sterile, white and windowless. It was occupied by two hospital chairs, a small table, a tiny closet and, in the middle of the room, a white-sheeted hospital bed. The chart at the foot of the bed was basically a straight line; there seemed to be many weeks' worth of other charts underneath it. Beside the bed, magical monitoring equipment blended unobtrusively with the white walls; an automatic feeder, a Magical Activity Indicator, and a heart-and-brainwave monitor stood vigilantly by.

Oliver's brain registered none of this. From the moment he'd stepped through the door, his attention had been focused entirely on the familiar figure in the bed. Her skin was paler than he remembered, like delicate porcelain; her dark hair fanned out around her face in a sort of halo. Alicia Spinnet looked just like he remembered her, except that her eyes were closed, thick lashes half-moons on her cheeks, and she lacked the animation his friend had always had.

Oliver reached out a hand and touched her cheek, forgetting for a moment that there were others in the room.

His reverie was shattered by Charlie, who interrupted as gently as possible. "There's a way you might be able to wake her, if you try." Seemingly hesitant, which in Oliver's opinion was not very like Charlie at all, he pressed an open book into Oliver's hands. "It's up to you, but I think it's worth a shot."

He glanced down at the tome. Its leather bindings felt ancient; it seemed to weigh far more than a book its size ought to have. Letters swam before his eyes and Oliver let them fall shut, feeling tears prickle behind his eyelids. "Can I-"

By the time he had composed himself again, they had gone. Kate, ever tactful, had pulled Charlie with her outside the room to wait. Oliver pulled up a chair beside Alicia's bed and took her hand in both of his, trying hard to ignore how cool it felt. Having just found out she was alive, he needed a few moments to sort his thoughts out. He looked up at her face- pale as the sheet it was set against- for a moment, and his memory brought him back to Hogwarts, and the last game he'd ever played there.

__

You look like you've seen a ghost.

__

Oliver finally overcame his shock and managed a grin. "I can't believe it's only been a year." Alicia, in her graduation robes, came forward to embrace him. "You've grown."

She laughed and cuffed him on the back of the head. "You haven't. What brings you to Hogwarts on this most chaotic of last days?"

He placed a hand over his heart, maiming injury. "What do you mean, what brings me here? Five of Gryffindor's Quidditch Team are graduating! Of course I would never miss an event such as this. Where's Harry, we should have a scrimmage before you all have to leave."

Alicia's expression registered somewhere between a grin and a grimace. "Actually, Oliver, only four of the Quidditch team are graduating. And Harry's off somewhere with Ginny Weasley, very likely; don't ask me where Ron is."

She hadn't quite succeeded in changing the subject. Oliver's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, only four Gryffindor Quidditch players graduated? Is someone staying an extra year?" Back then, he could not contemplate any of their lives without the game; everything revolved around the love of the game.

"Actually, Oliver..." she looked as if she were in actual physical pain. "Quidditch just wasn't one of my priorities this year. I had so much else to do, and so little time in which to do it. I... Quit."

His mouth dropped open. He was rendered absolutely speechless. Alicia, one of his unbeatable Chasers- Alicia had quit_? _Alicia_ had quit? She loved Quidditch almost as much as he did- at least, she had the last time he'd checked. Which, come to think of it, had been in her second year, when he'd recruited her for the Gryffindor team._

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Alicia had smiled at him weakly. "I'm sorry, Oliver. I didn't mean to spoil your day. But that's a good idea- let's get a game going. I've had enough of these pre-post-Hogwarts blues."

Setting aside his initial disappointment, Oliver took her by the arm, and they ventured out to find the rest of the team.

"We all thought you were dead, you know," he rasped, almost unconsciously stroking the back of her hand. It was hard to talk past the lump in his throat. "Everyone but Charlie, pretty much, and even then it's not like he really knew you. Sometimes I felt like _I_ hardly even knew you. I certainly never would have guessed you'd leave the Quidditch team. I should have realized that even the most fanatical can have their priorities changed."

It was as if the dam he'd been using to cut himself off from his pain had broken. Every dream, experience, emotion that he had had over the past six months wanted expressing. "When you- when I thought you were gone, everything changed even for me." He laughed a little, wiping moisture from the corner of one eye unconsciously. "That was the day I was supposed to renew my contract, but that was a bust. I quit- just like you did, only I guess the realization got to me a little later than it did to you. I enlisted for special Auror training the next day.

"It wasn't like I'd expected. Hell, I thought I was there to set an example; I thought Aurors were supposed to be the epitome of virtue. Kind, brave, heroic- turns out that we have to play dirty sometimes, too. War-" here he stopped, swallowed, and continued- "War isn't like Quidditch. In Quidditch there are only two teams, and you know exactly who they are. There's a clear definition of fair and foul play. In Quidditch you don't have to worry about whether the other team wants to be playing against you or not, or whether there are more of them than you. War isn't black and white. It's not fair, and there's no one to dictate rules. There's no real way to tell if someone's on your team or not. To tell you the truth, Alicia, this war scares me.

"But that's the way things are going around here. I- I don't want to be the one to tell you this..." Oliver spent a good deal of time trying to bypass the lump in his throat, "But I don't know if there's anyone else to tell you. Your parents... well, they're gone. There's no delicate way to put it. I guess maybe I shouldn't have bothered, since I'll just have to tell you again anyway..." He sighed. "I've missed you. I still miss you."

The book on the table finally caught his attention and he flipped it open to the bookmark. "I guess I ought to give this a try."

It took his eyes a few moments to get used to the strange font, but when he did, he found his blood singing in his ears. This was it, Alicia's last chance. He drew his wand and a deep breath, concentrating on the incantation for a moment. He was not such a poor student of Latin that he did not understand what he was supposed to do. "_Expergo lethargus arcessito saviolum_," he managed, and commanding more courage than he had ever used in the war effort, leaned over and pressed his lips to hers.

Several things failed to happen. First, Oliver noticed, the world didn't end. No fireworks erupted in his brain. He supposed it was difficult when one of the parties involved in the kiss was unconscious. Thunder didn't rumble in the distance, and the lights didn't flicker.

Alicia's eyelids did, but they didn't open. Her breathing quickened, though, and, as Oliver watched, a bit of colour returned to her cheeks. Finally, he found himself caught in her sapphire gaze. She spoke, her voice untouched by the months in a coma. "Oliver?"

His heart flooded with emotion; words failed him yet again. Gently but firmly, he pulled her against his chest. Only then did he allow himself to believe that she was real. Only then did he allow relief to overcome in. And only then, in the quiet, isolated sterilized room, did he let his emotions show. For the first time since he had enlisted, he lost control completely, and found himself then, tears flowing down to moisten Alicia's hair.

*

"What's he doing?" Charlie whispered curiously. 

Kate kicked him in the shins. "He's coming to terms, ogre. Show a little human compassion and let him be." 

"I resent that. I am not an ogre!"

"You're right," she agreed with a glint in her eyes. "You're too short. More like a satyr."

He rolled his eyes. At least she was making an attempt to lighten their situation. "I'm not hairy enough. And I don't have horns." A grin lit his features. "Except figuratively, maybe. Or if you count Angel's."

"Angel?"

"It was Fred's idea," Charlie said with a smile. "What's wrong with calling a pygmy Angel?"

She scoffed. "When I was in Romania, we gave the dragons sensible _dragon_ names."

"What, like Rippy?" he smirked. "Sounds like a bad Muggle horror film."

"Well, there was Godzilla, but that was a fluke. He got away from his Keepers... besides, that was in Japan, and there was something wrong with his Medulla oblongata." Kate bit her lip; looked nervously back at the door, whose outline was just barely discernable. "Do you think he'll be alright, Charlie?"

For reasons he did not care to think about, Charlie reached for her hand and squeezed it in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "Oliver's pretty strong, Kate. I wouldn't have made it as far as he has if I were in his situation. He'll be fine." He didn't like to think about himself in Oliver's situation. That meant that he would have to believe Kate was dead. He knew for a fact that it was beyond his capability to cope.

"I hope you're right." She caught herself. "Not about the you not being able to handle it part. About the Oliver being okay part." 

"I guessed that." Charlie strained his ears. "Do you hear beeping?"

Kate rushed to the doorway and stuck her head in. She withdrew it again quickly, her expression one of quiet relief. "Alicia's awake."

__

Oh, thank God. Charlie felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He must have sagged noticeably against the wall, because Kate turned to him with a kind, encouraging, almost sad smile and unexpectedly put her arms around him. "You're a good man, Charlie Brown," she said, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

He managed to keep himself from blushing or stuttering. "Thanks." He cleared his throat. "Should we... collect them and go? The longer we stay, the better the chances that someone finds out what we've been up to."

Sighing, Kate admitted, "You have a point. I hate to interrupt, though." She glanced apprehensively toward the door. 

"We'll give them a minute." However, Oliver chose that moment to appear in the doorway.

"I've got it from here, Charlie."

Charlie nodded. "Portkey?" He wasn't especially keen on being seen leaving, either. He had special wizarding permits wired into the core magic of this particular division of St. Mungo's - often the patients there needed Auror protection, and fast. Taking a yo-yo from the pocket of his robes, he unwound the string a bit and distributed it between the four of them. "On three?" 

They reappeared, vaguely nauseated, just outside the door to Oliver's apartment, which he awkwardly opened one-handed. Kate and Charlie followed him inside, and Charlie closed it quietly behind him.

Nadzia snuffled around the corner from the kitchen, where her makeshift den was. Spotting her partner, she stomped over and peered a trifle curiously at the woman in his arms. She sniffed once. Then, with a grumbling sigh of acceptance, she retreated back into the kitchen.

"Getting approval?" Charlie said with a mild grin. 

Oliver glared at him before heading off into the further recesses of his flat. 

"Moves fast, doesn't he," Kate commented dryly, watching his retreat.

Charlie, appalled and amused, turned to her with an expression that matched her own. "I hardly think that after months in stasis, Alicia has that kind of stamina. And Oliver looks pretty tired, too. Shall we give them the benefit of the doubt?"

Luckily for him, Oliver was just returning from the bedroom area and hadn't heard this comment. "Thank you," he said simply, perhaps the sincerest thing he'd ever said to Charlie.

Charlie heard Kate mumble, "What, finished so soon?" and trod purposefully on her toe. "You're welcome, Oliver. But before you- anyway, you should know... She can't _leave_," he finished miserably. "If they find out she's gone anywhere..."

"I know," the other man replied solemnly.

"And you have to tell her about-" Charlie waved his hand vaguely.

"I know."

"And just..." He ran a hand through his hair. "Go easy on her, okay?"

Oliver nodded. "Relax, Charlie. I wasn't raised in a stable. I know how to treat a guest."

Kate interrupted gently, "Make sure you know how to treat a friend, as well."

He smiled a little, looking entirely preoccupied. "Thanks, Kate. I won't forget."

*

Morning came gently.

Something about that morning, Oliver knew, was fundamentally different. He stretched languidly, allowing a yawn to escape him. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment before turning over to snuggle deeper into his warm bed.

Except that it wasn't his bed. Oliver toppled off the couch with a _ploomf_, ensnared in a wicked tangle of blankets, and belatedly remembered what was so fundamentally different about this morning: Alicia Spinnet was sleeping in his bed.

He pulled himself up off of the floor, trying to walk without being tripped by the blankets that had somehow managed to wrap themselves around his feet. Then he headed for his bedroom to check on his unexpected houseguest. He knocked on the door. "Alicia? Are you awake?"

Receiving no answer, Oliver slowly pushed the door open. "Alicia?" A cursory glance showed that she wasn't in his bed. "Are you-" Just as he was turning around, Alicia herself walked a little unsteadily through the door. Her hair was wet, and there were water droplets running down it onto her shoulders. Her eyelashes were stuck together in clumps, and her blue eyes were awake, alert- and a little startled. She was wearing a very short towel.

"Er," he said, feeling his face and other less civilized body parts heat up. "You're awake." _So are you_, an inner voice taunted. He turned, if possible, even redder. 

Alicia just nodded. She opened her mouth as if to speak, and formed words with her lips, but he couldn't hear her. At first he wondered if her near-naked soaking-wetness was having more of an effect on him than he'd thought, but then he realized that she had been in an induced sort of stasis for six months, and long periods of exposure to magic tended to wreak havoc on the vocal chords. Even Sonorous Charms, designed specifically for use on voices, were not recommended to be used for more than a few hours at a time.

__

Stop staring, Oliver, he reprimanded himself sharply. "I, uh, I'm going to go make some breakfast, okay? You can help yourself to whatever's in my closet." He couldn't help but feel a little cowardly as he fled the room and sought peace in the kitchen.

Every clatter of the pans on the stove seemed unnaturally loud to Oliver's ears. When Alicia walked in, mercifully clad now in one of his old robes, he had pretty much composed himself. "I guess it's going to be kind of quiet around here until you get your voice back." He put a plate full of six different breakfast foods in front of her and filled a glass with orange juice. "Is there anything you're going to need...?"

Alicia looked down at herself and back up at him with an expression that said, "Isn't it obvious?" and Oliver cursed himself inwardly. Clothes. Toothbrush. Personal, feminine things. Man's worst nightmare was about to become reality: they were going to have to go _shopping_.

He sighed. "Okay. Give me a few minutes to get ready." _She's going to need a disguise_, he reminded himself. _You never know who you might see_. 

But who would recognize her? Aside from her hair and eye color, this Alicia looked nothing like the Alicia he had known before. This Alicia was smaller, less confident, less muscular than the Alicia she had been. Her hair was too long and she was too pale. All of this would make it very easy for her to be inconspicuous.

Well, that and the fact that people tended not to recognize people who were dead.

Oliver stepped into the shower and tried not to think about the fact that there was still steam from the previous one in the bathroom. It was going to be a long day. He hadn't even tried to breach the subject of her parents yet. Maybe when they were done shopping.

*

The glamour Alicia was wearing was fairly simple. It gave her freckles and coloured her hair red and rounded her face. Her eyes still peered curiously and brightly out from under similar-shaped brows, though, and Oliver thought that she was beautiful. That, however, was a given.

He just wished she could speak. It was a little embarrassing when, at the first shop on their rather lengthy list, Alicia held up a particularly alluring brassiere to her chest and merely raised her eyebrows at him as if to ask his opinion. Oliver turned six shades of red before nodding. This process had repeated itself multiply in that boutique and then in almost every other- there were vitamin supplements and toiletries and other feminine items to consider, and clothing and sleep attire (the word 'negligée' did not exist in Oliver's vocabulary).

When all the general Muggle shopping had been done, Alicia turned to Oliver as if to say, "What about robes?" and gestured in the general direction of the entrance to Wizarding London.

"It's not safe," he said reluctantly. "Someone would recognize me for sure, and you don't look that different. Besides, you won't be needing them." 

He got another curious look as they continued back to his flat. "What I mean is," and here he cringed, unsure as to how to continue, "you..." He sighed. "Oh, hell. You're going to have to lie low for awhile. That's part of why you're wearing a disguise. Everyone thinks you're dead, and the circumstances surrounding that 'death' are highly classified Ministry files." Oliver opened the door to the flat and let Alicia enter. He deposited the many shopping bags on the floor in the foyer. "While we're on the topic..."

Alicia allowed herself to be directed towards the sofa. She sat down a little stiffly as Oliver picked his blanket off the floor. He folded it into his lap as he spoke, trying not to fidget too much and looking directly into her eyes. "Alicia... when you were in St. Mungo's, a lot happened. Before, Voldemort was still being really careful and didn't concentrate much on... well..." He took a deep breath. "A few days after Lucius cursed you, Voldemort got a lot less discreet. He... Alicia, he killed your parents." Causing her so much pain filled Oliver with self-loathing. "I'm so sorry."

Alicia's eyes squeezed shut and her face crumpled. She drew her knees up to her chest and tried to hide herself in them, and Oliver was startled by the noiselessness of the soft, sudden exhalation. Her body shook with silent sobs. Feeling utterly helpless, he did all that he could, pulling her into his arms and trying to share the pain. Alicia buried herself in his robes for a long time before her emotional exhaustion pulled her to the other side of consciousness. 

*

When Charlie got home from work, Kate was sitting on his sofa with a stack of books piled up beside her. "Pull up a chair," she said without looking up, absently turning an ancient page. "Lots of research to be done."

Charlie's stomach grumbled. "Just a minute. I've got to get something to eat." A quick search of the standard Muggle refrigerator provided him with a few slices of cold pizza, which he took with him back to the living room. "Which one is the finished pile?"

"'Finished pile?'" Kate repeated demurely with a slight smile. "Grab a textbook, Charlie. They're all fair game."

He groaned and grabbed the top book in the pile. _Elf Genealogy_. _Not likely to be the most involving read_, he thought to himself. The ancient cover creaked ominously as he opened it. There was another layer of dust inside the cover; he brushed it off. Barely legible at the top of the page were the words, _The beginning_. Below it, in tidy handwriting-

__

Prelude 

In the beginning the young world was divided in four: earth, wind, fire and water. From thence came the world's first magical creatures: there came Tuath from the earth and Druids from the water, Sprites from fire. But the north wind and the south wind fought bitterly over what would manifest their power, causing storms all over the earth and desegregating the other elements. Into their storm they swept up bits of earth, and rain, and lightning, and it swirled and crackled and grew and made the Tuath and the Druids and the Sprites miserable for seven years. At the end of the seventh year the other three creatures pooled their power and forced the dueling winds to cease, but they had fought so fiercely that everything that had been consumed by their storm had been mixed together so thoroughly that it could never be separated into the four elements again. Thus, the north wind and the south wind breathed life into the blend, and the race of Elves was born.

Because they were born of the fierce battle between the winds, the Elves became powerful warriors. And because so much magic was needed to pacify the dueling winds, the Elves became the heirs to a great deal of magical energy as well as a comfortable reign of peace.

Charlie turned the page. He was glad that Riley didn't have such terrible problems with normal English sentence structure.

__

A Chronicle of the Second House

I wonder where the First House is if it's not at the beginning, thought Charlie irrelevantly, then focused on the text again. 

__

Wethrel Thornspark, oldest brother of the Starfire, headed the Second House. The Second House, as well as the Third House, is considered nobility among the Elves. Though there is no formal hierarchy except that the First House is the ruling house, the Elves deem it a great honour to be of close kinship to the Starfire. 

The time of Wethrel Thornspark lasted until the first Age of Chaos, when feuding Elves from the Fifth and Sixth Houses started a war that lasted seven years. Wethrel was killed by his second cousin, Farlin the Strong, while attempting to resolve the conflict. Upon his death, his great-great-grandson Eldir...

Charlie skipped over the next few dozen pages and pondered again. Why someone would go to the trouble of documenting the entire history of a clan feud that had basically no impact on the way the clans interacted after that was beyond his comprehension. Most of it was probably myth, anyway- many wizards didn't believe in Elves in the first place. 

Looking down at the page once more, Charlie's eyes widened incredulously. "Kate. Have a look at this." He passed over the book. Written at the top of the page in faded ink were the words, _Genealogy of Fallen Elves (continued from page 238)_. A key at the side indicated that the Elves written with a purplish sort of ink were still considered members of their original House, whereas those in red ink had been cast out. Charlie noted curiously that all of these Elves were of the Fifth or Sixth Houses. 

But this wasn't what he found so fascinating. Halfway down the page was a name from a long line of red names that Charlie was sure he remembered- Chait Blakemore. Kate peered over his shoulder and followed his finger down past Chait Blakemore to Raamah Blakemore, who had had, among other offspring, a son named Marcellus. Two names, both red, appeared below this- Cassius and Narcissa. 

Now Charlie knew that this was a familiar family. Beside Narcissa's name were the letters that spelled "Lucius Malfoy" in a colourless ink. And then, following the line of "Cassius," his blood froze. "Kate?" he said weakly, too stunned to gesture.

Cassius Blakemore and Viviane Beard- her name in a light gray. Below that, in purple ink again instead of red: Quem Seponere. Charlie wondered aloud, "Kate... is Viviane your mother's name?"

Kate, her face entirely drained of colour, nodded twice. 

"Have you got a half-sister you never mentioned?"

She shook her head. "Not that I know of. But I mean, this Cassius man- he could have taken the baby away, right? Before I was even conceived? I wouldn't have known about it- it would have been simple to put a Memory Charm on my mother, she wouldn't have remembered a thing..."

Charlie said nothing. He doubted very much that Viviane Beard had had another child. Deep in his heart, he was already convinced of the true identity of Quem Seponere, but he was pretty sure it would be more than just difficult to convince Kate.

*

He gave himself one final appraising glance in the mirror before giving up entirely, realizing that he was going to be late if he didn't get moving soon. He wasn't exactly certain what to expect from himself, or what to expect from Kate, but he did know one thing- if he screwed up his friendship with her, he'd never forgive himself. Charlie resolved to expect nothing, hope for the best and prepare for the worst, feeling slightly queasy as he picked up the flowers by the door and locked it behind him. A few minutes later, he Apparated to The Leaky Cauldron. He and Kate had decided (meaning that Charlie had insisted) that in order to decrease the likelihood of a further connection between the two of them, they would meet at the Muggle restaurant Kate had chosen. This was the result that had stemmed from a slight debacle over whether everyone knew they were close and what harm a little more protection could do. 

He thought that he would get out of The Leaky Cauldron without further delay, but someone called to him from a booth across the hazy room. "I hope you've got a hot date tonight, Charlie, because you're a little overdressed for The Leaky Cauldron."

Charlie felt his blood simmer as he turned towards the voice. _Why did it have to be Jonathan Chortos? _he asked himself silently. It was _always_ Jonathan Chortos. That damn American. He managed to keep his voice calm. "Actually, yes, and I'm going to be late. Sorry I can't stay to chat." He noted the simpering wench- witch- beside him with distaste before nodding to her and raising his hand in farewell. _I knew there was a reason I hate Valentine's Day._

The walk to the restaurant was cold and somewhat lonely, and Charlie had to admit to himself that meeting Kate there wasn't the most romantic idea even if it was the most practical. He would probably have to beg her forgiveness. Again.

When he got to the restaurant he found that Kate was already waiting for him. The maitre d' led him to the table where she was sitting.

Truth told, Charlie didn't even recognize her at first. He seemed to be following the maitre d' to a table where an exotic, dark-skinned young woman sat alone in a rather stunning red dress, her honey-blonde hair curled and twisted onto her head. She looked entirely too sophisticated to approach, let alone eat with, and then Charlie realized with a start that she was Kate.

She stood up to greet him and planted a kiss on his cheek when he offered her the flowers. "Sorry I'm a little late," he said apologetically. "I ran into something unanticipated and paid for it with time." Like the arrival of his brothers Bill and Fred, both happily married, who had decided that he needed a little help getting ready (or a large push in the right direction) and had been more hindrance than assistance.

"I ordered hors d'oeuvres and wine to punish you," she said with a teasing grin, "but it's not much of a punishment since you'll be here to eat and drink it. You're not really that late anyway. I was only a little worried."

Charlie hated when he made Kate worry. It filled him with self-resentment and it wasn't generally a pleasant experience. "Sorry," he said again, abashed.

Kate kicked him lightly under the table. "Forget about it. I already have. Now what're you having? I, personally, am starved."

He held up a hand to forestall any further comment for a moment, diverting Kate's attention from a Muggle man about to propose to his girlfriend. He _definitely_ hated Valentine's Day. "I wasn't done," he chided gently. "I'm sorry I'm such an ass. It really was pointless for us to meet here to avoid more public exposure- first of all we're sitting in front of a huge window, and second of all, half of the wizarding world suspects we're having an affair. Probably also my fault, by the way." 

She mock-chastised him, "I think you're taking too much of the credit." But he could see something in her eyes appreciated and was even touched by his apology. "Can we order now?"

He smiled- Kate had managed to dispatch his uneasiness with tremendous skill and little fumbling over words. Maybe this wouldn't be as difficult and perplexing an issue as he'd thought.

*

Still somewhat awed at the fact that the evening hadn't been completely awkward, Charlie led Kate up the steps to her cottage. "Coming in?" she asked, and miraculously Charlie did not blush. She brandished the flowers he'd gotten her at him. "I need to put these and water. Besides, I made dessert."

Charlie quickly weighed his options in his mind. He didn't have to work in the morning; the only thing he had to do was show up at The Burrow as he'd promised his mother. He wasn't worried about getting anywhere he shouldn't with Kate- in the first place she'd never allow it, and on top of that she was his best friend, and it was the most natural thing in the world to be around her. He had confidence that they wouldn't do anything that would make either of them uncomfortable.

So Charlie had no reservations about going in for what he deemed to be a completely innocent visit. In fact, he had almost followed her into the kitchen to help her get dessert, but for some reason decided against it. Then Kate screamed.

Charlie made his way to the sound before he even realized where it was coming from. Kate had dropped the crystal vase she'd had the roses in and it had shattered into a million pieces on the floor. 

Next to it was the prone body of Chloë Sanderson. There was a trickle of blood on her forehead that originated somewhere else on her head and her breathing was shallow. "My God," Kate whispered, completely pale, her eyes riveted to Chloë's form. 

Which was clearly in at least the sixth month of pregnancy. "Oh my God," Kate repeated. "Charlie... You have to go get someone. I'll stay here with her."

"What if they come back for you?" he reasoned automatically, still shocked.

"What if they do? I'm not in any state to Apparate, Charlie. I'll splinch myself. Go!"

He went.

*


End file.
